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OCT. 16, 1940 

Entered, according to Act of CongreBB, In the year 1871, 

By lee and SHEPARD, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 

Cambridge : Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Ca 


Ste ite lj f p g d at the Boilon Stereotype TaaaOxjt 

No. 19 Spring Lue. i 


The following pages are the record of the fruition of years 
of desire and anticipation ; probably the same that fills the 
hearts of many who will read them — a tour in Europe. 

The habits of observation, acquired by many years' con- 
stant occupation as a journalist, were found by the author 
to have become almost second nature, even when the duties 
of that profession were thrown aside for simple gratification 
and enjoyment; consequently, during a journey of nearly 
seven months, which was enjoyed with all the zest of a fii-st 
tour, the matter which composes this volume was prepared. 

Its original form was in a series of sketches in the colmnns 
of the Boston Commercial Bulletin. In these the writer at- 
tempted to give as vivid and exact an idea of the sights 
and scenes which he witnessed as could be conveyed to 
those who had never visited Eui'ope. 

Whether describing Westminster Abbey, or York Minster, 
Stratford-on-Avon, or the streets of London; the wonders 
of the Louvre, or the gayetics and glitter of Paris ; the gran- 
deur of the Alpine passes ; the quaintness of old continental 

dties; experiences of post travelling ; the romantic beauties 



of the Italian lakes ; the tmdcrgroand wonders of Adelsberg, 
or the aqueous highways of Venice, — the author aimed to 
give many minute particulars, which foreign letter-writers 
deem of too little importance to mention, but which, never- 
theless, are of great interest to the reader. 
That the effort was, in some measure, successful, has been 


evinced by a demand for the sketches in permament form, 
sufficient to warrant the publication of this volume. 

In so presenting them, it is with the belief that it may be 
pleasant to those who have visited the same scenes to re- 
visit them in &ncy with the writer, and with a hope that 
the volume may, in some degree, serve as a guide to those 
who intend to go *^ over the ocean," as well as an agreeable 
entertainment to the stay-at-homes. 

a a 




Goings Abroad. — What It costs. — Hints t4> Tourists. — Llfv on board Ship. •— 
Land Ho ! — Examining Laggnge, — Tlio Emerald Isle. — Blamcj Castle. — 
Dublin. — Dablin Oistle. — St. Patrick's Cathedrnl. — Cheap John's Paradise. 
— Plioenlx Park.— Across the Irish Sea. — Railroad travellln;; in England.— 
Guard r«. Conductor. — Word to the Wise. — Uail road Stations. — An Old 
EngllshCit/. — Chester Cathedral.- The City Walts 1-S8 


Chester to Liverpool. — An English Breakfast.- A Trial of Patience.- Llr- 
erpool Docks. — St. George's Hall.— Poverty and SnlTering.— The Lake 
District.— Home of the Poets. — Keswick. — An English Church. —Tho 
Dmids*Tcmple. — Brougham Hall —A Roadside Inn 2S^M 


Edinburgh. — Historic Streets. — Edinburgh Castle. — Bonnie, Dundee. — 
Rooms of Historic Story. — Tho Scottish Regalia. —Curiosities of tho Old 
City.— Holyrood Palace.— Relics of the Past.— Holy rood Abbey.— Anti- 
quarian Museum. — Scott and Scotland. — Hawthomden. — Roslln Chapel. 

— Melrose Abbey. — The Abbey Hotel.— Abbotsfbrd. — Stirling Castle. — 
The Tournament Meld. — Field of Bannockburn. — Lady of the Lake Scenes. 

— Scotch Lakes and HiUs 47-79 


Glasgow Cathedral. — Vestiges of Vandalism. — Bible Stories in Colored 
Glass.— The Actor's Epitaph.- Tarn O'Shantcr's Ulde. — Bums's Cottage. 
— £!rk Alio way— A Reminder from the Witehes. — Bonnie Doon.—New« 



castlc-on-Ty^e. — York.— Bcantlet of York Minster. — Old Saxon Relict. 
— SheflSeld. — The Cutlery WorkR. — Knglish Mechanics. —English Ale. — 
Chatsworth.- Interior of the Palace. — Sculpture Gallery— Landscape 
Eifectg. — Grand Conservatory. — naddon Hall '...••••• BO^llM \ 


KcnIhTorth. — Stratford on Avon. — Interesting^ Mementos. — Stratford 
Church. — Shakespeare's Safeg^uard. — Warwick Castle. — Dungpeon and Hall. 
— Warder's Horn and Warwick Vase. — Leicester's Hospital. — Beauchamp 
Chapel. — Mugby Junction. — Oxford. —The Mitre Tavern. — Bodleian Li* 
brnry. — Literary Treasures. — Curiosities and Rarities. — Story of an Old 
Portrait. — Queen Bess on Slatrimony. — Addison's Walk. — Boating on the 
Isis.— Martyr's Meqiorial 110-161 , 


London. — Feeing Servants. — Railway Porters. — London Hotels. — Slghta 
in London Streets. — Cabs and Cab-drivers. — London Shops. — Hints to 
Buyers. — A London Banking-house. — Routine vs. Courtesy. — Westmin- 
ster Abbey. — Tombs of Kings and Warriors. — Poets' Comer. — lYibntes 
to Genius.— Penny Steamboat Trip.- Kew Gardens. — The Star and Gar- 
ter. 153-181 


The Original Wax Works. — London Theatres. — Full Dress at the Opera.— 
Play Bills. — A Palace for the People. — Parks of London. — Zoological Gar- 
dens.- The Tower of London.— The Silver Key.— Site of the Scaffold.— 
Knights in Armor.— Regalia of England. — St Paul's. — The Whisporing 
Gallery. — Up into the Ball.— Down luto the Crypt. — Gog and Magog.— 
Bank of Eiiglhnd. — Hampton Court Pulacc. — The Gardens and People.— 
Windsor Castle. — Windsor Parks. — London Newspapers. — The Times. — 
The British Museum.— Bibliographical Curiosities. — Egyptian Galleries.— 
A Wealth of Antiquities. — Original Magna Charta. — Priceless Mann* 
scripts 185-211 


From London to Paris.— Grand Hotels.— The Arch of Triumph. — Paris by 
Gaslight.— Site of the Guillotine. — Improvements in Paris.- The Bastile. 
— The Old Guard. — Tlie Louvre. — Gallery of Masterpieces. — Relics of Na- 
poleon 1.— Palais Royal. —Jewelry. — French Funeral. — P4re I.a Chaise.— 
Millions in Marble.— Tomb of Bonaparte. — Versailles. -Halls of the Cm- 




Mdes.— Qtillerj of the Empire* —Gallery of Battles. — Theatre in the Pal- 
aoe.— Foantaina at YerflalUea. — Notre Dame. — Sainte Chapclle. — The 
Madeleine.— The Pantheon. — Les Champs Elyse^a.— Cafta Chantanta. — 
The Jardln Mabllle.— The Lnxemboorg.- Palace of St. Cloud.— Shops in 
Puis. — Bargfains 24&-3a9 


Good by to Paris.- Church of St. Gndule.— Field of Waterloo. — Bmsiiels 
Lace. — Antwerp. — The Cathedral Spire.— Dusseldorf. — Cologne Cathe- 
dral. — Rlchen of the Church. — Up the Ehine. — Bridge of Boats. — Cob- 
lentz and Ehrenbroitstein. — Stolzonfcls. — Legendary Caatles. — Bingcn on 
the Rhine. — Koman Remains. — Mayencc. — Wiesbaden. — Gambling Halls. 

— Frankfort-on-tho-Main. — Heidelberg Castle. — The Groat Tun. — The 
King's Seat. —Baden-Baden.— Sabbath Amusement. — Satan's Snare bolted. 

— AmoDg the Gamblers. — Scene at the Table. — Strnsburg Cathedral.— 
Strasburg Clock. — Clock at Basle. — Swiss Railways.— Travelling In Swit- 
aerland.— Zurich and ita Scenery 30£K)75 


The Righi.— Guides and Alpenstocks. — Climbing the Alps.- Night on the 
Mountain Top. — The Yodlyn. — Lucerne. — Wonderful Organ Playing. — A 
Sail on Lake Lucerne.- Scene of TelPa Archery. — The St. Gothard Pass. 
—The Devil's Bridge.— The Brunlg Pass. — A Valley of Beauty. — Intcr- 
laken. — Staubbach WateriUl. -Glaciers and Avalanches. — An Illuminated 
Waterfall. — Berne. — The Freiburg Organ. — Lake Lcman. — The Prison of 
ChiUon. — Geneva. — Swiss Washerwomen. — Glaciers by Moonlight. — Sun- 
rise on Mont Blanc. — Valley of Chamouny . — View from Fleg^re. — Climb- 
hiig again.— Crossing the Sea of Ice.- The Mauvais Pass.- Under a Glo- 
eier.— The Tftte Noir Pass. — Italian Post Drivers. — The Rhone Valley. — 
Simplon Pass.- Gorge of Gondo. — Fressinone Waterfall. — Domo d'Os- 
sola. — An Italian Inn. — Lake Maggiore. — Milan Cathedral. — A WonderfVil 
Statue.- Death and Dross.— The La Scala Theatre.— Lake Como. — Italian 
Monks.- Madesimo Waterfall 370-450 


The SplUgen Pass. — The Via Mala.— Tamlna Gorge. — Falls of Schaffliau- 
sen. — Mnnich.— Galleries of Paintings. — Grodan Sculpture restored. — A 
Bronze Giant. — Hall of the Colossi. — The Palace. — Basilica of St. Boni- 
fiioe. — Salzbui^.- Aquarial Wonders. — Visiting LlUlput. — Vienna. — Judg- 
ing by Appearances. - - Royal Regalia. — Cabinet of Minerals. — The Ambras 
Museum 460-17S 



Superb lfau8olciim.^The Strjuiss Band. — Summer Fsilaoe. — Imperial Gal- 
lery. — Vienna Leather Work. — Shops and Prioci.— The Care of Adelsberg. 
—Undenpronnd Wonders.— Nature's Imitation of Art 476-IB7 


Venice. — Gondolas and Gondoliers. — Shylock. — The Blalto. — The Olanfs 
Staircase. — The L4on's Month. — Terrible Dungeons— Square of St. Mark.— 
The fironse Horses.— Church of St. Mark.— Titian's Monument. — Canova's 
Monument. — Cathedrals and Pictures.— Florence.— Art In the Streets. — 
The Uffisl Gallery. —Old Masters In Battalions.— Hall of Nlobe. — Cabinet 
of Gems.— Michsel Angelo's House. — The Duomo.— The Campanile.— 
Church of Santa Crooe.— Michael Angelo's Statuary. — Florentine Mosaics. 
— Medioean Chapel. — Pittl Palace. — Halls of the Gods. — The Casoine. — 
Powers, the Senlptor T • . • 487-S80> 


Tower of Pisa. — The Duomo. — Galileo's Lamp. — The Baptistery. — Campo 
Santo. — Over the Apennines. — Genoa. — Streets of Genoa. — PallaTldnl 
Gardens. — Water Jokes. — Turbi to Susa« — Mt. Cenls Pass. — Paris again. 
—Down In the Sewers • 531-M8 


Sie transit.— English Budencss. — Wondevs of London.— Looking towards 
Home. — Last Purchases.— English Conserratism.— Bennlon of Tourists. 
—All aboard. — Home again M0-«8 



Do you remember, dear reader, when you were a young- 
ster, and studied a geography with pictures in it, or a " First" 
or " Second " Book of History, and wondered, as you looked 
upon the wood-cuts in them, if you should ever see St. Paul's 
Cathedral, or Westminster Abbey, or London Bridge, or go 
to the Tower of London, and into the very room in which the 
poor little princes were smothered by the order of their cruel 
uncle Richard, by the two rude fellows in a sort of undress 
armor suit, as depicted in the Child's History of England, or 
should ever see the Paris you had heard your elders talk so 
much of, or those curious old Rhine castles, of which we read 
so many startling legends of robber knights, and fair ladies, 
and tournaments, and gnomes, and enchanters? What a 
realm of enchantment to us, story-book readers, was beyond 
the great blue ocean ! and how we resolved, when we grew 
to be a man, we would travel all over the world, and see every 
thing, and buy ever so many curious things in the countries 
where they grew or were made. Even that compound which 
produced " the finest jet black ever beheld," was to us in- 
vested with a sort of poetic interest in boyhood's day, for the 
very stone jug that we held in our hand had come from Lon- 
don, — "97 High Holbom," — and there was the picture of 
the palatial-looking factory on the pink labeL 



LONDON ! There was something sonorous in the sound, 
and something solid in the very appearance of the word whon 
written. When we were a man, didn't we mean to go to 
London ! 

Tears added to youth dissipated many of these air-built 
castles, and other barriers besides the watery plain intervene 
between the goal of one's wishes, and Europe looks further 
away than ever. " Going to Europe ! Everybody goes to 
Europe nowadays," says a fiiend. True, and in these days 
of steam it is not so much of an event as formerly ; indeed, 
one would judge so from many of his countrymen that he 
meets abroad, who make him blush to think how they mis- 
represent Americans. 

The Great Expositions at London and Paris drew from our 
shores every American who could by any manner of means or"* 
excuse leave business, and obtain funds sufficient to get over 
and back, if only for a six weeks' visit. The Exposition 
brought out to Paris and to Europe, among the swarm of 
Americans who went over, many such, and some who had 
scarcely visited beyond the confines of their native cities 
before crossing the Atlantic. These people, by their utter 
inexperience as travellers, and by their application of the pre- 
cept inculcated in their minds that money would answer for 
brains, was a substitute for experience, and the only passport 
that would be required anywhere and for anything, became a 
source of mortification to their countrymen, easy game for 
swindling landlords and sharp shopkeepers, and rendered all 
the great routes of travel more beset with extortions and 
annoyances than ever before. 

But about "going to Europe." When one decides to start 
on a pleasure trip to that country for the first time, how many 
very simple things he wishes to know, that coiTespondents 
and people who write for the papers have never said an}i;hing 
about. After having once or twice gone over in a steamship, 
it never seems to occur to these writers that anybody else will 
want to become acquainted with the little minutisB of informa- 
tion respecting life on board ship during the trip, and which 


most people do not like to say they know nothing about ; and 
novices, therefore, have to clumsily learn by experience, and 
sometimes at four times the usual cost. 

Speaking of cost, let me say that this is a matter upon 
which hardly any two tourists will agree. How much does it 
cost to go to Europe ? Of course the cost is varied by the style 
of living and the thoroughness with which one sees sights ; 
by thoroughness I mean, besides expenditure of time, the use 
of extra shillings ^pour hoires^^ and the skilful dispensation 
of extra funds, which will gain admission to many a forbidden 
shrine, insure many an unexpected comfort, and shorten masy 
a weary journey. 

There is one popular error which one quickly becomes dis- 
abused o^ and that is, that everything abroad is dirt cheap, 
and it costs a mere song to live. Good articles always bring 
good prices. Many may be cheaper than at home, it is true, 
but they are by no means thrown away, and good living in Paris 
cannot bs had, as some suppose, for three francs a day. 

If one is going abroad for pleasure, and has a taste for 
travelling, let him first decide what countries he wishes to 
visit, the routes and time he will take, and then from ex- 
perienced tourists ascertain about what it would cost ; after 
having learned this, add twenty per cent, to that amount, and 
he will be safe. 

Safe in the knowledge that you have enough ; safe in being 
able to make many Uttle purchases that you will never dream 
of till you reach Regent Street, the Boulevards, the " Piazza 
San Marco," the Florence mosaic stores, or the Naples coral 
shops. Safe in making little side excursions to noted places 
that you will find on your route, and safe from the annoying 
reflection that you might have done si« much better, and seen 
so much more, if you had not limited t'le expenditure to that 
very amount whidi your friend said would take you through. 

These remarks of course apply only to those who feel that 
they can anbrd but a fixed sum for the journey, and who 
ought always to wait till they can allow a little margin i^o the 
fixed sum, the more completely to enjoy the trip. 


I have seen Americans in French restaorants actually cak 
dilating up the price of a dinner, and figuring out the price 
of exchange, to see if they should order a francos worth 
more or less. We may judge how much such men's enjoy* 
ment is abridged. 

On the other hand, the class that I refer to, who ima^e 
that money will pass for everything, increase the cost of 
travel to aU, by their paying wiUiout abatement the demands 
of landlords and shopkeepers. The latter class, on the con- 
tment, are so accustomed, as a matter of course, to being 
^beaten down" in the price, that it has now come to be a 
saying among them, that he who pays what is at first de- 
manded must be a fool or an American. In Paris, during 
the Exposition, green Englishmen and freshly-arrived Ameri- 
cans were swindled without mercy. The jeweby shops of 
the'Rue de la Paix, the Grand Hotel, the shops of the Palais 
Boyal, and the very Boulevard cafSs fleeced men unmercifully. 
The entrance of an American into a French store was always 
the occasion of adding fix)m twenty to twenty-five per cent 
to the regular price of the goods. It was a rich harvest to 
the cringing crew, who, with smirks, shrugs, bows, and par- 
donnez mots in the oiliest tones, swindled and cheated with- 
out mercy, and then, over their half firanc's worth of black 
coffee at the resUfnrant, or glass of absinthe, compared notes 
with each other, and boasted, not how much trade they had 
secured or business they had done, but how much beyond the 
legitimate price they had got from the foreign purchaser, 
whom they laughed at. 

All the guide-books and many tourists exclaim against 
bftgg^g^ &i^d ^^6 the travelling with a single small trunk, 
or, as they call it in England, portmanteau. This is very 
well for a bachelor, travelling entirely alone, and who expects 
to go into no company, and will save much time and expense 
at railway stations ; but there is some comfort in having ward- 
robe enough and some space for small purchases, even if a 
little extra has to be paid. It is the price of convenience in 
one respect, although the continual weighing of and chaiging 


fe^\s^j^jk!g^ ifi* ^xrxioyiiig to an American, who is unused to 
^atBQ^Q^ -tiiMLaa.^ 5 £uicl one very curious circumstance is dis- 
^^^^\\a. tJkxie^ "%v^i^liiiig, no two scales on the continent give 
^^s^Wmftwexgit^'fc of* tilie same luggage. 

P^^a^^ttft tiolsi^tis fi-om America to Europe it is, of course, 
^^^^g\)e^t to seciTxre some time in advance, and a previous 
visiti ^^ ^e Btioa.ixx^r may aid the fresh tourist in getting a 
®*^^^^-^tootit ^^^*-^ tl>.^ oentre of the ship, near the cabin stairs, 
aai ^^Q l[iavin^ sl dead-light, all of which are desirable 

^^^ave some old olothes to wear on the voyage ; remember 
it i^^ ^i^ at sea gtvgul in smnmer ; and carry, besides your over- 
co^.-^. g^^d warm. \xixd«r-clothing, some shawls and railway rugs, 
latter to lio xroixncl on deck with when you are seasick, 
here is ^^ oxxro for seasickness ; keep on deck, and take 
j^ ^^ucb exeiroiso as possible; hot drinks, and a hot water 
bo-fc^-tle at the feet axe reUefe. 

3 p][e'B appetitieB come to them, after seasickness, for the 

fit uaacco\xnt;alt>le things, and as soon as the patient ' han- 

» fox anytlaing, by all means let him get it, if it is to be 

on "board. , fox- it is a sure sign of returning vigor, and in 

casea o\xti of ten, is the very thing that will bring the 

fexex xelief . 1 liave known a delicate young lady, who had 

XV "unable t,o eat anything but gruel for three days, sud- 

^^^^j^^ tave axi intense longing for corned beef and cabbage, 

-, after eating heartily of it, attend her meals regularly 

xemaindex of the voyage. Some make no effort to get 

11 from port to port, and live in theu* state-rooms on the 

Vions "little messes they imagine may relieve them, and 

^^\^\rA^ axe pxomptly brought either by the stewardess or bed- 

"^^ steward of the section of state-rooms they occupy. 

^^ rrvie tickets on the Cunard line express, or did express, 

t tlie amount received includes "stewards' fees;" but any 

e "wbo wants to be well served on the trip will find that a 

^ vereign to the table steward, and one to the bedroom stew- 

^ 0^ the first paid the last day before reaching port, and the 

econd by instalments of half to commence with, and half just 



before leaving, — will have a marvellously good eflfect, and tliat 
it is, in fact, an expected fee. If it is your first voyage, and 
you expect to be sick, speak to the state-room steward, who 
has charge of the room you occupy, or the stewardess, if you 
have a lady with you; tell him you shall probably need his 
attention, and he must- look out for you; hand him half a 
sovereign and your card, with the number of your room, and 
you will have occasion to experience most satisfactorily the 
value c^ British gold before the voyage is over. If a desirable 
seat at the table is required in the dining-saloon — that is, an 
outside or end seat, where one can get out and in easily, — or 
at the table at which the captain sometimes presides, a simi- 
lar interview, with the saloon steward, a day or two before 
sailing, may accomplish it. 

Besides these stewards, there are others, who are known as 
deck stewards, who wait upon seasick passengers, who lie 
about the decks in various nooks, in pleasant weather, and 
who have their meals brought to them by these attentive 
fellows from the cabin table. It is one phase of seasickness 
that some of the sufferers get well enough to lie languidly 
about in the fresh, bracing air, and can eat certain viands they 
may fancy for the nonce, but upon entering the enclosed 
saloon, are at once, from the confined air or the more percep- 
tible motion of the ship, afflicted with a most irrepressible and 
disagreeable nausea. 

Well, the ticket for Liverpool is bought, your letter of 
credit prepared, and you are all ready for your first trip across 
the water. People that you know, who have been often, ask, 
in a nonchalant style, what " boat " you are going " over " in ; 
you thought it was a steamer, and the easy style with which 
they talk of running over for a few weeks, or should have 
gone this month, if they hadn't been so busy, or they shall 
probably see you in Vienna, or Rome, or St. Petersburg, causes 
you to think that this, to you, tremendous undertaking of a 
first voyage over the Atlantic is to be but an insignificant 
excursion, after all, and that the entire romance of the affair 
and the realizmg of your imagination is to be dissolved like 


one of youth's castles in the air. So it seems as you ride 
down to the steamer, get on board, pushing amid the crowds 
of passengers and leave-taking Mends ; and not until a last, 
and perhaps, tearful leave-taking, and when the vessel fairly 
swings out into the stream, and you respond to the fluttering 
signal of dear ones on shore, till rapid receding renders face 
and form indistinguishable, do you realize that you are fairly 
launched on the great oceao, and fnends and home are left 
behind, as they never have been before. 

One's first experience upon the great, awful Ocean is never 
to be forgotten. My esteem for that great na\dgator, Christo- 
pher Columbus, has risen one hundred per cent, since I have 
crossed it, to think of the amount of courage, strength of 
mind, and faith it must have required to sustain him in his 
venturesome voyage in the frail and imperfect crafts which 
those of his day must have been. 

Two days out, and the great broad sweep of the Atlantic 
makes its influence felt upon all who are in any degree sus- 
ceptible. To the landsman, the steamship seems to have a 
regular gigantic seensaw motion, very much like that of the 
toy ships that used to rise and fall on mimic waves, moved, by 
clock-work, on clocks that used to be displayed in the store 
windows of jewellers and fancy dealers. Now the bows rise 
with a grand sweep, — now they sink again as the vessel 
plunges into an advancing wave, — up and down, up and 
down, and forging ahead to the never-ceasing, tremulous jar 
of the machinery. In the calmest weather there is always 
one vast swell, and when wind or storm prevails, it is both 
grand and, terrible. 

The great, vast ocean is something so much beyond anj-, 
thing I ever imagined, — the same vast expanse of dark-blue 
rolling waves as far as the eye can reach, — day after day, 
day after day, — the great ship a mere speck, an atom in the 
vast circle of water, — water everywhere. The very wind 
sounds diflerently than on land ; a checrftil breeze is like the 
breath of a giant, and a playftil wave will send a dozen hogs< 
heads of water over the lofty bulwarks. 

8 LA2n>, ho! 

But in a stiff breeze, when a great wave strikes like an iron 
avalanche against the ship, she seems to pause and shudder, 
as it were, beneath the blow; then, gathering strength fi-om 
the unceasing throb of the mighty power within, urges her 
way bravely on, while far as the eye can reach, as the ship 
sinks in the watery valleys, you see the great black tossing 
waves, all crested with spray and foam, like a huge squadron 
of white-plumed giant cavalry. The spray sometimes flies 
high over the smoke-stack, and a dash of saline drops, coming 
fiercely into the face, feels like a handful of pebbles. A look 
around on the vast expanse, and the ship which at the pier 
seemed so huge, so strong, so unyielding, becomes an atom in 
comparison, — is tossed, like a mere feather, upon old Ocean's 
bosom ; and one realizes how little is between him and eter^ 
nity. There seem to be no places that to my mind bring man 
so sensibly into the presence of Almighty God as in the midst 
of the ocean during a storm, or amid the grand and lofly peaks 
of the Alps ; all other feelings are swallowed up in the mute 
acknowledgment of God's majesty and man's insignificance. 

If ever twelve days seem long to a man, it is during his 
first voyage across the Atlantic; and the real beauty of green 
grass is best appreciated by seeing it on the shores of Queens- 
town as the steamer sails into Cork harbor. 

Land again ! How well we all are I A sea voyage, — it is 
nothing. Every one who is going ashore here is in the bustle 
of preparation. 

We agree to meet A and party in London ; we will call on 
B in Paris, — yes, we shall come across C in Switzerland. 
How glib we are talking of the old country ! for Kere it is,— • 
nw three thousand miles of ocean to cross now. A clear, 
bright Sunday morning, and we are going ashore in the little 
tug which we can see filming down the harbor to meet us. 

We part with companions with a feeling of regret. Seated 
on the deck of the little tug, the steamer again looms up, 
huge and gigantic, and we wonder that the ocean could have 
BO tossed her about. But the bell rings, the ropes are cast 
ofi^ the tug steams away, our late companions give us three 


parting cheers, and we respond as the distance rapidly widens 
between us. 

Custom-house officials examine your luggage on the tug. 
American tourists have but very little trouble, and the in- 
vestigation is slight ; cigars and fire-arms not forming a 
prominent feature in your luggage, but little, if any, incon- 
venience may be anticipated. 

This ordeal of the custom-house constitutes one of the 
most terrible bugbears of the inexperienced traveller. It is 
the common opinion that an inspection of your baggage means 
a general and reckless overhauling of the • personal property 
in your trunks — a disclosure of the secrets of the toilet, per- 
haps of the meagreness of your wardrobe, and a laying of 
profime hands on things held especially sacred. Ladies natu- 
rally dread this experience, and gentlemen, too, who have 
been .foolish enough to stow away some little articles that 
custom-house regulations have placed under the ban. But 
the examination is really a very trifling affair; it is conducted 
courteously and rapidly, and the traveller langhs to himself 
about his unfounded apprehensions. 

The tug is at the whaif ; the very earth has a pleasant 
smell ; let us get on terra Jirma, Now, then, a landsman 
finds out, after his first voyage, what "sea legs'* on and sea 
legs oSf that he has read of so much in books, mean. 

He cannot get used to the steadiness of the ground, or 
rather, get at once rid of the unsteadiness of the ship. I 
foxmd myself reeling fi'om side to side on the sidewalk, and 
on entering the Queen's Hotel, holding on to a desk with one 
hand, to steady myself while I wrote with the other. The roll- 
ing motion of the 6hip, to which you have become accustomed, 
is once more perceptible ; and I knew one fiiend, who did not 
have a sick d:iy on board ship, who was taken landsick two 
hours after stepping on shore, and had as thorough a casting 
up of accounts for an hour as any of us experienced on the 
steamer at sea. The Cunard steaihers generally arrive at, or 
used to arrive at, Queenstown on Sunday mornings, and all 
who land are eager to get breakfast ashore. We tried the 



Queen's Hotel, where we got a very fair breakfast, and were 
charged six or eight shillings for the privilege of the ladies 
sitting in a room till the meal was ready for us — the first, and 
1 think the only, positive swindle I experienced in Ireland. 
After breakfast the first ride on an English (or rather Irish) 
railway train took us to Cork. The road was through a 
lovely country, and, although it was the first of May, green 
with verdure as with us in June — no harsh New England 
east "winds ; and one can easily see in this countiy how May- 
day came to be celebrated with May-queens, dances, and 

To us, just landed from the close steamer, how grateful was 
the fragrance of the fresh earth, the newly-blossomed trees, and 
the hedges all alive with twittering sparrows I The country 
roads were smooth, hard, and clear as a ball-room floor ; the 
greensward, fresh and bright, rolled up in luxuriant waves to 
the very foot of the great brown-trunked trees ; chapel bells 
were tolling, and we saw the Irish peasantry trudging along 
to church, for all the world as though they had just stepped 
out of the pictures in the story-books. There were the women 
with blue-gray cloaks, with hoods at the back, and broad white 
caps, men in short corduroys, brogues, bobtail coats, caubeens 
and shillnlah ; then there was an occasional little tip-cart of 
the costermonger and his wife, drawn by a donkey; the jaunt- 
ing-car, with half a dozen merry occupants, all forming the 
moving figures in the rich landscape of living green in her- 
"bagc, and the soft brown of the half moss-covered stone 
walls, or the corrugated stems of the great trees. 

We were on shore again ; once more upon a footing that 
did not slide from beneath the very step, and the never-ending 
broad expanse of heaving blue was exchanged for the more 
grateful scene of pleasant fields and waving trees ; the suflfer- 
ings of a first voyage had already begun to live in remem- 
brance only as a hideous nightmare. 

A good hotel at Cork is the Imperial Hotel ; the attend- 
ance prompt, the chamber linen fresh and clean, the viands 
well prepared. 


The scenery around Cork is very beautifiil, especially on 
the eastern side, on what is known as the upper and lower 
Glanmere roads, which command fine views. The principal 
promenade is a fine raised avenue, or walk, over a mile in 
length, extending through the meadows midway between two 
branches of the River Lee, and shaded by a double row of 
lofly and flourishing elms. 

Our first walk in Ireland was fi'om the Imperial Hotel to 
the Mardyke. Fifteen minutes brought us to the River Lee ; 
and now, with the city proper behind us, did we enjoy the 
lovely scene spread out to view. 

In the month of May one realizes why Ireland is called the 
Emerald Isle — such lovely green tur^ thick, luxurious, and 
velvety to the tread, and so Uvely a green ; fancy New Eng- 
land grass varnished and polished, and you have it. The 
shade trees were all. in full lea^ the finiit trees in fall flower; 
sheep and lambs gamboling upon the greensward, birds piping 
in the hedges, and such hedges, and laburnums, and clamber- 
ing ivy, and hawthorn, the air perfiimed with blossoms, the 
blue sky in the background pierced by the turrets of an old 
edifio^ sun'ounded by tall trees, round which wheeled circles 
of ca\^g rooks ; the little cottages we passed, half shrouded 
in beautiful clambering Irish ivy, that was peopled by the 
nests of the brisk Uttle sparrows, filling the air with their twit- 
terings; the soft spring breeze, and the beautiftd reach of 
landscape — all seemed a realization of some of those scenes 
that poets write o^ and which we sometimes fancy owe their 
existence to the luxuriance of imagination. « 

Returning, we passed through another portion of the city, 
which gave us a somewhat different view; it was nearly a 
mile of Irish cabins. Of course one prominent feature was 
dirt, and we witnessed Pat in all his national glory. A newly- 
arrived Ameiican cannot help noticing the deference paid to 
caste and position ; we, who treat Irish servants and laborers 
so well as we do, are surprised to see how much better they 
treat their employee in Ireland, and how Httle kind treat- 
ment the working class receive fi:om those immediately abova 


The civil and deferential Pat who steps aside for a well- 
dressed couple to pass, and touches his hat, in Cork, is vastly 
different from the independent, voting Pat that elbows you off 
the sidewalk, or puffs his fragrant pipe into your very face in 
America. In Ireland he accepts a shilling with gratitude, 
and invocation of blessings on the donor; in America he 
condescends to receive two dollars a day ! A fellow-passen- 
ger remarked that in the old country they were a race of 

Touch-hats, in the new one of Go to . I found them here 

obliging and civil, ready to earn an honest penny, and grate- 
fill for it, and much more inclined to " blarney " a little extra 
from the traveller than to swindle it out of him. 

I made an arrangement with a lively driver to take us to 
the celebrated Blarney Castle in a jaunting-car — a delightfiJ 
vehicle to ride in of a pleasant spring day, as it was on that 
of our excursion. The cars for these rides are hung on springs, 
are nicely cushioned, and the four paasengers ^it back to back, 
fadng to the side; and there being no cover or top to the 
vehicle, there is every oppoitunity of seeing the passing 

No American who has been interested in the beautifrd 
descriptions of English and Irish scenery by the British poets 
can realize their truthfulness until he looks upon it, the char- 
acteristics of the scenery, and the very climate, are so dif- 
ferent from our own. The ride to Blarney Castle is a delight- 
frdly romantic one, of about six miles; the road, which is 
smooth, hard, and kept in excellent order, winds upon a side 
hill of the River Lee, which you see continually flashing in and 
out in its course through the valley below ; every inch of 
ground appears to be beautiftilly cultivated. The road is 
lined with old brown stone walls, clad with ivy of every 
variety — dark-green, polished lea^ Irish ivy, small leaf, heart 
leaf, broad lea^ and lance lea^ such as we see cultivated in 
pots and green-houses at home, was hexe flourishing in wild 

The climate here is so moist that every rock and stone 
fence is clad with some kind of veidure ; the whole seems to 


satisfy the eye. The old trees are circled round and round in 
the ivy dasp ; the hedges are in their light-green livery of 
spring; there are long reaches of pretty rustic lanes, with 
fresh green turf underneath grand old trees, and there are 
whole banks of violets and primroses — yes, whole banks of 
such pretty, yellow primroses as we preserve singly in pots 
at home. 

There are grand entrances to avenues leading up to stately 
estates, pretty ivy-clad cottages, peasants^ miserable, thatched 
cabins, great sweeps of green meadow, and the fields and 
woods are perfectly musical with sin^g birds, so unlike 
America: there are linnets, that pipe beautifully; finches, 
thrushes, and others, that fill the air' with their warblings ; 
skylarks, that rise in regular circles high into the air, singing 
beautifully, till lost to vision ; rooks, that caw solemnly,, and 
gather in conclaves on trees and roofs. Nature seems trying 
to cover the poverty and squalor that disfigures the land with 
a mantle of her own luxuriance and beauty. 

Blarney Castle is a g:ood specimen of an old ruin of that 
description for the newly-arrived tourist to visit, as it wiU 
come up to his expectation in many respects, in appearance, 
as to what he imagined a ruined castle to be, from books and 
pictures. It is a fine old building, clad inside and out with 
ivy, situated near a river of the same name, and on a high 
limestone rock ; it was built in the year 1300. In the reign 
of Elizabeth it was the strongest fortress in Munster, and at 
difibrent periods has withstood regular sieges; it was de- 
molished, all but the central tower, in the year 1646. 

The celebrated Blarney Stone is about two feet below the 
smnmit of the tower, and held in its place by iron stan- 
chions ; and as one is obliged to lie at full length, and stretch 
over the verge of the parapet, having a friend to hold upon 
your lower limbs, for fear an accidental shp or giddiness 
may send you a hundred feet hclow, it may he imagined that 
the act of kissing the Blarney Stone is not without its perils. 
However, that duty perfonnecl, and a charming view enjoyed 
of the rich undulating country from the smmnit, and inspeo- 



lion made of some of the odd little turret chambers of the 
tower, and loopholes for archery, we descended, gratified the 
old woman who acts as key-bearer by crossing her palm with 
silver, strolled amid the beautiful groves of Blarney for a 
brief period, and finally rattled off again in our jaunting-cars 
over the romantic road. 

The Shelbome House, Dublin, is a hotel after the American 
style, a good Fifth Avenue sort of affair, clean, and well kept, 
and opposite a beautiful park (Stephens Green). Americans 
will find this to be a house that will suit their tastes and 
desires as well, if not better, than any other in Dublin. Sack- 
ville Street, in Dublin, is said to be one of the finest streets in 
Europe. I cannot agree with the guide-books in this opinion, 
although, standing on Carlisle Bridge, and looking down this 
broad avenue, with the Nelson Monument, one hundred and 
ten feet in height, in the centre, and its stately stores on each 
side, it certainly has a very fine appearance. Hei-e I first 
visited shops on the other side of the water, and the very 
first thing that strikes an American is the promptness with 
which he is served, the civility with which ho is treated, the 
immense assortment and variety of goods, and the effort of 
the salesmen to do everything to accommodate the purchaser. 
They seem to say, by their actions, " We are put here to attend 
to buyers' wants ; to serve them, to wait upon them, to make 
the goods and the establishment attractive; to sell goods, 
and we want to sell goods.'* On the other hand, in our own 
country the style and manner of the clerks is too often that 
of "I'm just as good, and a little better, than you — buy, if 
you want, or leave — we don't care whether we sell or not— 
it's a condescension to inform you of our prices ; don't expect 
any attention." 

The variety of goods in the foreign shops is marvellous to 
an American ; one pattern or color not suiting, dozens of others 
are shown, or anything will be made at a few hours' noti/»e. 

Here in Dublin are the great Irish poplin manufactures; 
and in these days of high prices, hardly any American lady 
leaves Dublin without a dress pattern, at least, of this elegit 


material, which can be obtained in the original packages of 
the ** Original Jacobs " of the trade, Richard Atkinson, in Col- 
lege Green, whose front store is a gallery of medals and ap- 
pointments, as poplin manufacturer to members of royal 
£miilies for years and years. The ladies of my party were 
crazy with delight over the exquisite hues, the splendid qual- 
ity, the low prices — forgetting, dear creatures, the difference 
of exchange, and the then existing premium on gold, and six- 
ty per cent, duty that had to be added to the rate before the 
goods were paid for in America. Notwithstanding the stock, 
the hue to match the pattern a lady had in her pocket was not 
to be had. 

" We can make you a dress, if you can wait, madam," said 
the polite shopman, " of exactly the same color as yom* sample." 

"How long will it take to make it?" 

"We can deliver it to you in eight or ten days." 

" O, I shall be in London then," said the lady. 

"That makes no difference, madam. We will deliver it to 
you anywhere in London, carriage free." 

And so, indeed, it was delivered. The order was left, sent 
to the factory by the shopman, and at the appointed time 
delivered in London, the lady paying on delivery the same 
rate as charged for similar quality of goods at the store in 
Dublin, and having the enviable satisfaction of showing the 
double poplin that was "made expressly to her order" — one 
dress pattern — "in Dublin." 

I mention this transaction to show what pains are taken to 
suit the purchaser, and how any one can get what he wants 
abroad, if he has the means to pay. 

This is owing chiefly to the different way of doing business, 
and also to the sharper competition in the old countries. For 
instance, the Pacific Mills, of Lawrence, Mass., would never 
think of opening a retail store for the sale of their goods on 
Washington Street, Boston ; and if an English lady foiled to 
find a piece of goods of the color that suited her, of manu- 
facturing sixteen or eighteen yards to her order, and then 
sending it, free of express charge, to New York. 


The quantity and variety of goods on hand are overwhelm* 
ing; the prices, in, comparison with ours, so very low that I 
wanted to buy a ship-load. Whole stores are devote^ to spe- 
cialities — the beautiful Irish linen in every variety, Irish bog- 
wood carving in every conceivable form, bracelets, rings, 
figures, necklaces, breast-pins, &c. I visited one large establish- 
ment, where every species of dry goods, fancy goods, haber- 
dashery, and, I think, everything except eatables, were sold. 
Three hundred and fifty salesmen were employed, the pro- 
prietors boarding and lodging a large number of them on the 

^The shops in Dublin are very fine, the prices lower than in 
London, and the attendance excellent. 

" But Dublin — are you going to describe Dublin ? " 

Not much, dear reader. Describing citiea would only be 
copying the guide-book, or doing what every newspaper cor- 
respondent thinks it necessary to do. Now, if I can think of 
a few unconsidered trifles, wl&ik correspondents do not write 
about, but which tourists, on their first visit, always wish in- 
formation about, I shall think it doing a service to present 
them in these sketches. 

The Nelson Monument, a Doric column of one hundred and 
ten feet high, upon which is a statue eleven feet high <rf the 
• hero of the Nile, always attracts the attention of visitors. 
The great bridges over the Liffey, and the quays, are splendid 
pieces of workmanship, and worth inspection, and of course 
you will go to see Dublin Castle. 

This castle was originally built by order of King John, 
about the year 1215. But little of it remains now, however, 
except what is known as the Wardrobe Tower, all the pres- 
ent structure haying been built since the seventeenth century. 
Passing in through the great castle court-yard, a ring at a side 
door brought a courteous English housekeeper, who showed 
us through the state apartments. Among the most note-wor- 
thy of these was the presence-chamber, in which is a richly- 
carved and ornamental throne, frescoed ceilings, richly-uphol- 
stered furniture, &c., the whole most strikingly reminding one 

ST. patbick's cathbdsal. 17 

of those scenes at the theatre, where the " duke and attend- 
ants,'* or the " king and courtiers," come on. It is here the 
lord lieutenant holds his receptions, and where individuals are 
"presented" to him as the representative of royalty. The 
great ball-room is magnificent. It is eighty-two feet long, and 
forty-one wide, and thirty-eight in height, the ceiling being 
decorated with beautiful paintings. One represents George 
III., supported by Liberty and Justice, another the Con- 
version of the Irish by St. Patrick, and the third, a very spir- 
ited one, Henry II. receiving the Submission of the Native 
Irish Chiefi. Henry II. held his first court in Dublin in 

The Chapel Royal, immediately adjoining, is a fine Gothic 
edifice,, with a most beautiful interior, the ceiling elegantly 
carved, and a beautiful stained-glass window, with a represen- 
tation of Christ before Pilate, figures of the Evangelists, &c. 
Here, cai-ved and displayed, are the coats-of-arms of the dr^ 
ferent lord lieutenants from the year 1172 to. the present time. 
The throne of the lord lieutenant in one gallery, and that for 
the archbishop opposite, are conspicuous. This edifice was 
completed in 1814, and cost forty-two thousand pounds. It 
was the first Church of England interior I had seen over the 
ocean, and its richness and beauty were impressive at the 
time, but were almost bleached from memory by the grander 
temples ^ited a few weeks after. The polite housekeeper,, 
whom, in my inexperience, I felt almost ashamed to hand 
a shilling to, took it, nevertheless, very gratefully, and in a 
manner that proved that her pride was not at all wounded 
by U^e action. 

In obedience to the advice of an Emeralder, that we must 
not "lave Dublin widout seein' St. Patrick's Church," we 
walked down to that celebrated cathedral. The square which 
surrounds it is as much Si curiosity in its way as the cathedral 
itself. The whole neighborhood seemed to consist of the 
dirti?8t, quaintest tumble-down old houses in Dublin, and 
swarmed with women and children. 

Hundreds of these houses seemed to be devoted to tlic sale 



of old junk, sixth-haad clothing, and fourth-hand articles of 
every description one could name or think of — old tin pots 
and kettles, old rope, blacking-jugs, old bottles, old boots, 
shoes, and clothing in every style of dilapidation — till you 
could scarcely say where the^ article ended being sold as a 
coat, and became rags — iron hoops, old furniture, nails, old 
hats, bonnets, cracked and half-broken crockery. It verily 
seemed as if this place was the rag fair and ash-heap of the 
whole civilized world. The contents of six American ash- 
barrels would have given any one of these Cheap John stores 
a stock that would have dazzled the neighborhood with its 

Tou could go shopping here with two-pence. Costermon- 
gers' carts, with their donkeys attached, stood at the curb- 
stones, ragged and halfstarved children played in the gutters, 
^ great coarse women stood lazily talking with each other, or 
were crouched over a heap of merchandise, smoking short 
pipes, and waiting or chaffering with purchasers. Little filthy 
shops on every hand dealt out Ireland's curse at two-pence a 
dram, and "Gin," "Choice Spuits Sold Here,** "Whiskey," 
" Spirits," were signs that greeted the eye on their door- 
posts. The spring breeze was tainted with foul odors, and 
there was a busy clatter of tongues fi:om the seething and 
crowded mass of humanity that surged round in every direc- 

Upon the farther comer of the third side of the square, 
where the neighborhood was somewhat better, we discovered 
the residence of the sexton who had charge of the church — 
a strong Orangeman, bitterly opposed to the Romish church, 
and with a strong liking for America, increased by the fact of 
hailing a brother in the American Union army, who rose from 
sergeant to colonel in one of the western regiments. 

"Think o' that, sir! Te might be as brave as Julyus 
Sayzer in the English army, and sorra a rise would ye get, 
except ye'd be sated on a powdher magazine whin it ex- 

The legend is, that this church was ori^ally built by St. 


the tuif beneath them thick, green, and Inxoriant; and then, 
again, there are rustic, coiintiy-like roads, shady dells, and 
rustic paths in the beautiful park ; a great monument erected 
to Wellington by his countrymen at a cost of one hundred 
thousand pounds, will attract attention, and so will the 
numerous fashionable turnouts that roll over the well-kept 
roads every pleasant spring afternoon. 

From Dublin to Kingston is a pleasant little ride by rail: 
Kingston is on St. George's Channel, or the lower part of the 
Iiish Sea, and directly opposite Holyhead, Wales. At 
IQngston we took steamer for the passage across. The 
steamers of this line carry the royal mail, are built for 
strength and speed, and are splendid boats, of immense 
power, said to be the strongest and swiflest in Great Britain, 
and run at the rate of sixteen miles an hour. Fortunately, 
the passage was comparatively a smooth one, and we disem- 
barked in good condition upon the opposite shore, where we 
took train for Chester. An English railway carriage — its 
form is familiar to all fi*om frequent description ; but think 
of the annoyance of having to look afler your luggage, to see 
it safely bestowed on the top of the car, or in a luggage van, 
and to be obliged to look out that it is not removed by mis- 
take at any of the great stations you do not stop at, or that 
it is removed when you do stop. 

A few words on railway travelling in England: it differs 
from ours essentially. First, the cars on English roads are 
not so convenient, comfortable, or even so private as the 
American car. In the English first-class carriage, four per- 
sons must sit facing four persons; consequently four must 
perforce ride backwards, and the four are placed so as to 
stare directly at their opposite neighbors, — sometimes un- 
pleasant, if all are not acquainted, especially at lunch time, 
&C. Then, in the English carriage, four persons only of the 
eight can get a fair view of the scenery, and two of these are 
riding backwards. These four " govern " the windows, and 
lower or closie at their pleasure. I have been nearly smoth- 
ered, as well as thoroughly chilled, by happening to have 


people of adverse temperaments get the window seats, till I 
learned how to travel by rail in England, of which, hints anon. 

There are no means of heating the English railway car- 
riage, and they are not tightly joined, especially the second- 
class ones. Hence the "railway rugs," &c^ one hears so 
much about. But then, it must be confessed, the danger of 
the American stove renders it a rather unpopular affair. The 
* second-class car is a plain, substantial carriage, and the larger 
portion of the passengers travel in it. The first-lass car is 
more luxurious, upholstered more plentifully, supplied with 
racks for light baggage, and curtains at the windows. The 
English have not even reached the improvement of the slid- 
ing blind, which we have in America, so useful in excluding 
the sun's rays and admitting the air, the substitute being a 
flapping silk curtain. The second-class car has no curtain or 
shade to the window whatever. The absence of the signal 
rope is noticeable, and no man nowadays will remain in an 
English railway carriage, if one or two other men come in 
that he does not know. Is it not singular that so simple an 
arrangement as the signal rope to the engme driver should 
not have been applied, after all the murders, and assaults, 
and casualties, that have occurred on English railway trains, 
and proved its necessity? 

Not at all. It is an American invention — a novelty. An 
Englishman does not believe in novelties, in innovations, or 
in American inventions. After he has tried every other 
thing he can think of as a substitute, and finds he can get 
nothing so simple and effectual, he will adopt it; and .then it 
will be claimed as an English invention — invented by an 
Englishman ; just as they claim the invention of the revolver, 
steamboat, and I don't know but the sewing-machine. 

The English locomotives have no protection upon them 
for the engine-driver and fireman. These men are exposed, 
without shelter, and must have a rough time of it in bad 
weather. The " guard," who occupies the place of the Amer- 
ican conductor, but by no means fills it, is always recognizable 
by his uniform ; and at the statioa^, the numerous porters 


which it is necessary for the company to employ to handle 
baggage, owing to the absence of the check system, are also 
in uniform. These men are invariably civil, ready to serve, 
and miderstand their position and duties thoroughly. 

On some of the English railroads that I travelled over, it 
seemed as though the only duty the company thought they 
had to perform, was to simply carry you over their road ; and 
the ignorance of some of the under employes was positively 
amazing. Seated in the carriage, you might ride twenty 
miles past the station at which you wished to stop without 
knowing it, if you chanced to be on the off side. 

There was no conductor to pass and repass through the 
train, to look out that you debarked at the proper station; 
no list of towns on the back of your railroad check; no shout 
of "Passengers for Chester! Chester !*' when the train 
stopped; and the guard knew nothing of any other train 
except his own, or any other distance over the road, or of 
how to connect with any other train. 

The passenger is left to himself, and is never told by the 

guard to "change cars here for P That, you have to 

know yourself and look out and have the railway porter get 
your luggage (not baggage) q% or it will be carried on, as 
they have no check system — another American aSair, which 
it won't do to adopt too readily. 

Luggage is weighed, and, beyond a certain amount, chaiged 
for ; but any portmanteau one can get under the seat is free ; 
and it is astonishing what big valises some men carry. And in 
the absence of the check system, this is, of course, the safest way. 

Comparatively little luggage is lost or stolen. One reason 
why it is not stolen is, that there is a law here which pun^ 
ishes thieves, and does not allow them liberty for a stipulated 
sum, known as hail in America. 

The price in the first^jlass carriage, on the fast or express 
trains, is about a third higher than the second. A third 
class is still cheaper. The parliamentary or slow trains have 
cheaper rates than the express. 

The division of " classes '^ is, in many respects, an excellent 


arrangement. It affords to him who desires better accommo- 
dations, and has the means to pay for them, the opportunity 
of enjoying them ; and it does not force the poor man, the 
laborer or emigrant, to ride in a richly upholstered carriage, 
where he feels he is out pf place, when he would prefer to 
save his money, and have less gUding and upholstery. , 

One very soon finds, in England, the deference paid to 
class and to wealth, and nowhere sooner than on the railway 
train. It is presumed, on the expensive routes, that those 
riding in first^ilass carriages are ^first-class" people, and the 
guard's manner to the passengers in the different carriages is 
an index of English education in this matter. As he appears 
at the window of the first-class carriage, he politely touches 
his hat : — 

"All are for London in this compartment? Thank you." 

To the second-class : " Tickets, please." 

To the third-class : " Now, then, tickets. Look alive here, 
will you?" 

The first-class passenger finds that his wants are bettor 
attended to, his questions answered deferentially; he is 
allowed to take almost any amount of small luggage into the 
car with him, much of which would be excluded fi-om the 
second-class, if an attempt were made to cany it in. And O, 
the potency of the English shilling! 

Each car seats eight; but we will suppose that there are a 
party of four travelling together, and desire no more passen- 
gers in the compartments. Call the guard to the window, 
put your hand in your pocket, looking him in the eye signifi- 
cantly. Ho will carelessly drop his own hand within the 
window opening inside the car. You drop a shilling in the 
hand. " This car is occupied." 

"Quite so, sir." 

Touching his hat, he locks the car door, and when other 
peoplo come trying the door, he is conveniently out of the 
way, or informs the applicant, " Third carriage forward for 
London, sir," and by a dozen ingenious subterfuges keeps 
you free from strangers, so much that you betray yourself to 


him as an American by giving him another shilling at your 
journey's end; and, although smoking "is strictly forbidden 
in first-class carnages," a party of three or four smokers, by 
the judicious use of a couple of shillings, may have one all 
to themselves for that pui-pose. 

The railway stations in England are very fine, and much 
superior to those in America, although we are improving 
ouj-s, especially in the great cities. In the great English 
cities and towns, the stations are vast iron, glass-roofed struc- 
tures, kept in excellent order. The waiting-rooms are divided 
into first, second, and thu-d class, and the door opening upon 
the platfoim is not opened until a certain time before the 
train starts. Porters in uniform take the luggage to the 
train, and the " guard " who acts as conductor knows nothing 
about any railway train connections or line beyond his own. 
The passenger is supposed to know all that sort of thing, and 
he who "wants to know, you. know," is at once recognized as 
an American. 

The country stations are beautiful little rustic affaii-s, with 
gardens of roses and sweetbrier, honeysuckles and flowering 
shrubs about them. Some have the name of the station 
sown in dwarf flowers upon the bank outside, presenting a 
very pretty appearance in spring and summer, and contrast- 
ing very agreeably with the rude shanties we find in Amer- 
ica, with their tobacco-stained floors within, and bare expanse 
of yellow sand outside. 

We rattled through Wales in an express train, a romantic 
view of wild Welsh mountains on one side, and the beating 
and heaving ocean dashing up on the other, sometimes 
almost to the very railway track. We i^an through great 
tunnels, miles in length, whirled at the rate of fifty miles an 
hour through the great slate-quarrying district and Bangor, 
past the magnificent suspension bridge over Menai Straits, 
hy the romantic old castle of Conway, with its shattered bat- 
tlements and tuiTcts looking down at the sea, which dashes 
up its foam-crested waves ceaselessly at its rocky base, the 
old red sandstone walls worn and corroded with time; on, 


past thatched hats, rustic cottages, and green landscape, till 
the panting train halted at the great modem railway station 
in that oldest of English cities, Chester. 

This station is one of the longest in England, being ten 
hundred and fifty feet long, and having wings, a kind of pro- 
jecting arcades, with iron roofs, to shelter vdhicles waiting 
for trains. From this magnificent modem-built station a cab 
carried us, in a few minutes, on our route to the hotel (Grosvc- 
nor House), into an old sti-eet that looked as though wo 
had got into a set scene at the theatre, representing a street 
in Windsor for Falstaff and the Merry Wives to appear in; 
houses built in 1500, or years before, the street or sidewalks 
passing right under some of them; quaint old oddities of 
architecture, with curious inscriptions in abbreviated old Eng- 
lish on their carved cross-beams, and their gables sticking out 
in eveiy direction; cmious little windows with diamond- 
shaped panes set in lead ; and houses looking as though the 
hand of time had squeezed them together, or extracted the 
juice from them like sucked oranges, and left only the dried 
rind, half shrunken from its original shape, remaining. 

The great cm-iosity, however, in Chester, is the Chester 
Cathedral, and the old walls that encompass the city. I 
never realized the force of the expression "the coiToding 
tooth of time " till I saw this magnificent old cathedral : por- 
tions of it which were once sharply sculptured in various 
designs are now worn almost smooth by age, the old red 
sandstone looking as though time had sand-papered it with 
giitty hail and honeycombed its stones with melting rains ; but 
the whole was surrounded with a mellow, softened beauty of 
groined arches, beautiful curves, dreamy old cloistera, and 
quaint carving, that invested even the ruined portion with a 
hallowed beauty. The stained-glass windows, both old and 
modem, are glorious colored wondera ; the chapel where the 
services are now held is the same where, a thousand yeara 
ago, dreamy old monks told their beads ; and there are theii 
stalls or seats, so contrived as to afford but partial rest, so 
that if the sitter slumbered they fell forward with his weightji 
and threw him to the floor. 


Tho antique wood carving upon the seats and pews here, 
now blackened and hardened abnost to ebony in appearance, 
is very fine, excellently executed, and well preserved. High 
above ran around the nuns' walk, with occasional openings, 
whence the meek-eyed sisterhood could hear service below 
without being seen themselves as they came from their quiet 
cloisters near at hand, a quadrangle of one hundred and ten 
feet square, in which were four covered walks looking upon 
the enclosed garden, now a neglected greensward,, where 
several forgotten old abbots slumber peacefully beneath great 
stone slabs with obliterated inscriptions. 

The curious grope into some of the old cells, and most of 
us go down under the building in the crypt, where the mas- 
sive Gothic pillars, that support the pile, still in perfect preser- 
vation, bring vividly to mind those canvas representations of 
prison scenes one sees upon the stage. 

Inside the cathedral were numerous very old monuments 
and mementos of the past; among others an immense tap- 
estry wrought by nuns hundreds of yeai"s ago, and represent- 
ing Elymas struck with blindness. The enormous size of 
these cathedrals strikes the "fresh" American tourist with 
wonder. Fancy churches five times as large as ours, and the 
height inside from sixty to one hundred feet from the stone 
floor to the arched ceiling, lighted with glorious great win- 
dows of stained glass, upon which the stories of the Bible 
are told in colored pictures, and south, east, west, transepts, 
nave, and choir, crowded with relics of the past, that you have 
rqad of in the story-books of youth, and again upon the pages 
of history in maturer years ; artistic sculptures, old monu- 
ments, statues, carvings, and curious remains. 

In the chapter-house connected with the cathedral, wo 
were shown the colors canied by the Cheshire regiment on 
the field of Waterloo ; and it was interesting for me to grasp 
with my sacrilegious American hand one of the colors borne 
by a British regiment in America during the war of. the 
Revohition. / 

We also visited the ecclesiastical court-room in which the 




Bishop of Chester, in 1554, tried a Protestant minister, George 
Marsh, and sentenced him to be burned for heresy. The 
seats of the judges and chair of the accused are still preserved 
and shown to the visitor, who generally desires to sit in the 
mart3rr's seat, and finds it, even for a ^ew minutes, an un- 
comfortable one. 

The Chester Cathedral is said to have been founded in the 
year 200, and was used as b place of safety against the Danes 
in 800. It was well kept, and ruled by abbots, and its history 
well preserved fi-om the time of King TiVilliam Rufus, who 
was killed in New Forest, 1093, down to 1541. 

The old walls of Chester are the great attraction of the 
city; in fact, Chester is the only city in Great Britain that 
has preserved its old walls entire: they enclose the city 
proper, and are about two miles in circumference, affording 
a delightful promenade and prospect of the surrounding coun- 
try. The walls are squarely built of a sofl red fi:eestone, 
something like that used for our ''brown stone fi:ont" houses, 
though apparently not so hard a material, and vaiy firom 
twelve to forty feet in height. A fresh tourist firom a new 
country like our own begins to feel he is communing with 
the past, as he walks over these old walls, erected A. D. 61, 
and finds their chronology to read thus : — 

A. D. 

01 — WaUs built by Romans. 

73 — Marins, King of tho BritoDs, extended the walls. 
607 •— The Britons defeated under the waHs. 
907 — The walls rebuilt by daughter of Alfred the Great. 
1224 — An assessment for repairing the walls. 
1899 — Henry of Lancaster mustered his troops under these walls. 
1645 — ^The Parliamentary forces made a breach in these walls. 

So that it will be seen they have looked down upon some 
of the most eventful scenes of history ; and as we strolled 
,along, thinking what a feeble obstacle they would prove 
against the formidable engines of modem warfare, we came 
to a tower called the Fhosuix Tower; and an inscription upon 

t^d m \^\ t^ivd ^^^^1 % defeat of his anoy on 

Buffing pVain oi Mdft MvS- ^ & ^^ ^' looking very unlike a 

laarreiv moor, ot tXie ac«ae O^ ^^guinary combat. In this 

old tower a cunoua, antic^uaXy BOrt of old fellow keeps a 

motley collection of cnnositieSj acaong which were Havelock's 

spurs, 'buckles of Queen Mary's time, bean from tree planted 

by Washington (!), and a great, staring, size-of-life wood-cut 

of Abraham Lincoln, besides coins, relics, &c., that were 

labelled to interest, but whose genuineness might not stand 

the test of too close an investigation. 


It is a comparatively short ride from Chester to Liverpool, 
and of course we went to the Adelphi Hotel, so frequently heard 
mentioned our side of the. water; and if ever an American 
desires a specimen of the tenacity with which the English 
ding to old fashions, their lack of what we style enterprise, 
let hijn examine this comfortable, curious, well kept, incon- 
venient old house, or rather collection of old residences rolled 
into a hotel, and reminding him of some of the old-fashioned 
hotels of thirty years ago at the lower part of the city of 
New York. 

Upon the first day of my arrival I was inexperienced 
enough to come down with my wife to the "ladies' coffee- 
room" as it is called, before ordering breakfast. Let it be 
kept in mind that English hotels generally have no public 
dining and tea rooms, as in America, where a gentleman with 
iadie3 can take their meals ; that solemn performance is done 
by Englishmen in the strictest privacy, except they are travel- 
ling alone, when they take their solitary table in "the coffee- 


room," and look glum and repellent upon the scene around 
at intervals of the different courses of their well-served soli- 
tary dinner. Public dining-rooms, however, are gradually 
coming into vogue at English hotels, and at the Star and 
Garter, Richmond, I dined in one nearly as large as that of 
the St. Nicholas, Fifth Avenue, or Parker House, crammed 
with chattering guests and busy waiters ; but that was of a 
pleasant Sunday, in the height of the season, and the price I 
found, on settling the bill, fully up to the American standard. 

But at the Adelj.hi I came down in the innocence of my 
heart, expecting to order a breakfast, and have it served with 
the American promptitude. 

Alas ! I had something to learn of the English manner of 
doing things. Here was the Adelphi always full to overflow- 
ing with new arrivals from, America and new arrivals for 
America, and here was its ladies^ coffee-room, a small square 
parlor with five small tables, capable of acconunodating, with 
dose packing, fifteen people, and the whole room served by 
one waiter. The room was full on my arrival; but fortunately, 
while I was hesitating what course to pursue, a lady and 
gentleman who had just finished break&st arose, and we sat 
down at the table they had vacated. 

In the course often minutes the waiter cleared the table and 
spread a fresh cloth. "'Ave you bordered breakfast, sir ? " 

" No ! Bring me mutton chops, coffee, and boiled eggs, and 
hot biscuit, for two." 

** Beg pardon, sir; chops, heggs, coffee — a — biscuits, aren't 
any biscuits^ sir ; send out and get some, sir." 

Biscuits. I reflected ; these benighted Britons don't under- 
stand what an American hot biscuit is. " No biscuits ! Well, 
muffins, then." 

" Muffins, sir ; yes, sir ; " and he hastened away. 

We waited five, ten, fifteen minutes ; no breakfast. One 
party at another table, who were waiting when we came in, 
were served with their breakfast; in five minutes more a 
fresh plate of muffins to another party ; five more, and the 
waiter came to our table, put on two silver forks, a saltK^ellary 


and castor, and Bmoothed out some invisible wrinkles in the 
table linen, and went away ; five minutes more, and he was 
hustling among some knives at a sideboard. 


"Yes, sir.*' 

"Are you going to bring my breakfast?" 

"Yes, sii*; d'reckly, sir; chops most ready, sir.** 

Chops, always call 'em chops ; never call for a mutton chop 
in England ; the word is superfluous, and stamps you as an 
UD travelled, inexperienced Yankee at once. 

Five minutes more, and he appeared, bearing a tray with 
the breakfast, just thirty-five minutes after the order had been 
given for it. How long would a hotel in America be patron- 
ized that made its guest wait one half that time for four times 
as elaborate a repast? 

I soon learned how to manage this matter better, especially 
as there are no printed bills of fare, and the list comprises a 
very few standard dishes. My plan was, on first rising in 
the morning, to write my order for breakfast on a scrap of 
paper, ring for the chambermaid, hand it to her with instruc- 
tions to have that breakfast ready in the ladies' cofiee-room 

The English " directly ^ signifies the " right away " of Amer- 
ica, or, more correctly, inmiediately. 

In half an hour afterwards, when we descended, the waiter, 
whose memory had been strengthened by the judicious in- 
vestment of a shilling, had the cloth laid, and met us with, 
"Breakfast d'reckly, sir; Number 19; yes, sir." 

The breakfast, when it did come, was perfect ; the coffee or 
tea excellent, pure and unadulterated ; the chops, — not those 
American affairs with one bite of meat the size of half a dol- 
lar, tough and ill cooked, but large as the palm of one's hand, 
— cooked as they can only be cooked in England ; the muffins 
hot and smoking; the eggs fresh and excellent; so that the 
old-fashioned framed engravings, mahogany furniture, cramped 
quarters, and style of the past were forgotten in the appeal to 
that god of the Englishman, the stomach. 


All the viands at the Adelphi wiere of the best description, 
and admirably cooked, but the bill of fiire was limited to veiy 
few articles. A sight of one of the printed bills of our great 
American hotels would have driven the waiter crazy, while 
the utter disregard of time, or rather of the value of time, in 
an English hotel, is the first thing that strikes a newly-arrived 
American and stirs up his irritabiUty. 

Eating, with a Briton, is a very serious and solenm thing, 
and the dinner one of the most important social ceremonies 
in the kingdom. Tou cannot, if you will, in England, pre- 
cipitate youraelf into dyspepsia with the ease that it is pos- 
sible to do it in America. First, because people will not be 
hurried into eating at railroad speed, and next, because there 
is better cooking of standard dishes and fewer knickknacks 
at the hotel tables than in America. 

That inevitable pork fat that flavors everything after one 
gets west of Buffalo, and a little off the line of travel that 
leads you through the great hotels in the great cities in 
America, — that saleratus bread, hayey tea, clammy pie-crust, 
and great whity-gray, soury baker's bread, — that we, who 
have travelled at home, are so familiar with, give place in 
England to articles prepared in a very different style. I have 
often thought, when travelling at the West, that it was a sin 
for people in the midst of such luxurious plenty to abuse it 
BO abominably in preparing it for the table. 

With all the prejudices of a raw tourist upon his first visit, I 
must acknowledge that during two months' constant travel in 
England and Scotland, I never sat down to a single ill-cooked 
or badly-served meal; and I have tested humble roadside 
inns in the country, as well as the more pretentious hotels of 
the great cities. The bread of all kinds is close-grained, sweet, 
well baked, and toothsome; the chops served sometimes on 
napkins in hot dishes; muffins hot, with fresh, sweet butter; 
butter served in thin pats, ornamented with parsley; broiled^ 
chicken garnished with thin slices of delicately broiled ham, 
BO thin and free from grease as not to make a spot upon the 
pure damask table linen ; the dropped eggs upon crisp toast^ 


are a triumph of gastronomic art, and I need say no word in 
praise of English roast beef. 

But there is one dish which can be had in perfection only 
in America, and that is an American beefeteak. It is almost 
impossible to get a decent beefsteak in England, out of the 
city of London, and there only at a few well-known restau- 
rants celebrated for that specialty. They would think it 
almost sacrilege to cut beef into what is known in America 
as sirloin or tenderloin steaks ; and, with the few exceptions 
above named, the art of broiling a steak in the American 
style, and serving it with the thin, dry-fried potatoes, is un- 
known. But a truce to the department of cuisine. 

The one thing we all have most heard of in Liverpool is 
its great docks, which are the grand and characteristic fea- 
ture, indicating forcibly its great commercial activity and 
enterprise by their magnitude, solidity, and extent. These 
immense receptacles of merchandise extend for six miles along 
the river, and have an enclosure of two hundred and fifty-four 
acres, a quay space of over eighteen miles ; then upon the 
other side of the river are the Birkenhead docks, enclosing 
one hundred and &ixty-seven acres, and having a quay space 
of over nine miles, — thus giving to Liverpool four hundred bxA 
twenty-one acres of enclosed docks, and twenty-seven miles 
of quay space. 

The enormous heaps of every species of merchandise seen 
at these places, great ships from every part of the world, the 
perfect forest of masts, immense storehouses, cargoes that in 
the general mass seem but mounds of tea-chests, hillocks of 
coffee-bags, heaps of grain, piles of lumber, or fragments of 
machineiy in these gi'eat areas, but which in reality would 
provision an army, build a navy, and outfit a manufacturing 
city, give one the impression that Liverpool is the entrepot 
of the world, and some idea of the enormous commerce of 
Great Britain. 

Each dock has a chief, or master, who directs the position 
of all ships, and superintends the flood-gates at the docking 
and undocking of vessels ; and strict regulations are enforced 



for the pretention of fire ani the preservation of property. 
The sea walls in front of some of these docks are magnificent 
specimens of masonry, and each dock is designated by a name ; 
our American ships, I believe, favor that known as Waterloo 
Dock. All the docks are surrounded by huge bonding ware- 
houses and merchandise sheds. 

The Free Museum, which we visited in Liverpool, contains 
the largest and finest collection of ornithological specimens in 
the world. It was indeed superb, and I never saw such splen- 
did taxidennical skill as was displayed in the mounting and 
arranging of this vast collection of thousands and thousands 
of birds, of every species (it seemed), from every country in 
the known world. 

For instance, there was every species of eagle known to 
exist, — gray, white, bald, harpy, Ac, — poised, at rest, in 
flight, and in various positions, as in life ; every species of owl, 
— the gigantic, judge-like fellow, homed, snowy, gray, black, 
white, and dwarf; every falcon, — a magnificent set of speci- 
mens of this kind, as there was also of the crow family, which 
were represented not only by elegant black specimens, but by 
light-blue, and even white ones ; every species of sea bird, from 
the gigantic albatross to the Mother Gary's chicken; rare 
and curious birds; great cassowaries; the biggest ostrich I 
ever saw, — he could have carried a ftiU-grown African upon 
his back with ease ; gi*eat emus ; a skeleton of the now ex- 
tinct dodo ; a collection of every species of pheasant, including 
specimens of the Himmalayan pheasant, the most gorgeous 
bird in the whole collection, whose plumage actually glistened 
and sparkled with glorious tints, like tinsel or precious stones 
— a gorgeous combination of colors. Over (me hundred differ- 
ent varieties of humming-birds were displayed, and the same 
of parrots, who were in green, blue, yellow, white, pink, and 
ever}* uniform of feather that could be imagined; magnificent 
lyrebirds, with tall, erected tail, in exact form of ApoUo'a 
fabled lyre. 

Great condors from South America ; a brilliant array of 
every species of birds of paradise; a whole army of toucana^ 


84 ST. geohge's hall. 


a brilliant array of flamingoes and all the vulture tribe ; in 
fact, every kind of a bird you had ever heard, seen pictures or 
read of, and very many you never had heard of, were pre- 
sented in this most wonderful collection ; and one pleasing 
feature besides the astonishing life-like positions they were 
placed in, was the admirable neatness and order of the whole; 
not a stain marred the clear plate glass of the great cases, not 
a speck of dust could be seen in or about them ; and upon the 
pedestal of each specimen was pasted a label, in good plain 
English characters, ^ving the English name of it, the country 
it came from, and, in many instances, its habits, &c., so much 
better than the presumption acted upon iu some museums, 
that all the visitors are scientific Latin scholars. 

Besides this collection in the Museum, was one of minerals 
and corals, and another of preserved specimens of natural 
history. In this last we saw the entire skeleton of a large 
humpback whale, an entire skeleton of the gigantic Irish elk 
(species extinct) discovered in an Irish bog, a two-homed 
rhinoceros's head as big as a common hogshead, an enormous 
and splendidly-mounted specimen of the gorilla, larger than 
any, I think, that Du Chaillu exhibited in America, and a vast 
number of other interesting curiosities I have not space to 
enumerate, the whole of which was open free to the public, 
for pleasure or scientific study. 

St. George's Hall, Liverpool, occupies a commanding posi- 
tion, and presents a fine architectural appearance ; the eastern 
side of it is four hundred and twenty feet long, and has fifteen 
elegant Corinthian columns, each forty-five feet in height. 
Within the portico are some fine specimens of sculpture ; the 
gi'cat saloon is one hundred and sixty-seven feet long by seven- 
ty-seven feet high, and, it may be interesting to Bostonians to 
know, contains the great organ of Liverpool, which is not so 
fins a one as the Boston one. The hall is used for public 
meetings, musical festivals, &c., — very much for the same pur- 
poses as Boston Music Hall. In the immediate vicinity of St. 
George's Hall are the famous Liverpool lions, colossal stone 
monsters, the equestrian statue of Prince Albert, and other 
objects of interest. 



It was m Liverpool that I first saw that evidence of real, 
terribly suffering poverty that we read so much of as prevail- 
ing in the streets of some of the great cities of England. I 
don't know but as squalid misery might be found in New 
York city ; but there need be but very little of suffering by any 
one in America who has health and strength sufficient to do a 
day's work In Liverpool I saw groups of poor creatures in 
the street, with starvation written in their countenances ; and 
one evening, having occasion to go to the telegraph office 
from the hotel, I found that the streets absolutely swarmed 
with women, who were actually annoying to the Soianger by 
their persistent importunities. Upon one occasion, being 
awakened by the sound of voices at one o'clock at night, I 
looked across the square from my window, and there, opposite 
an illuminated gin-shop, stood a group of three poor children, 
droning through a song, in hopes of extracting a penny or 
two from those in or about it ; the oldest of the three could 
not have been a dozen years old, and the youngest a little 
ragged ^rl of six. 

There are people that one meets here whose appearance is 
an anguish to the aching heart. We saw a poor woman, in 
a sleazy calico dress, with a colorless, wan fiice, walking wearily 
up an ascent in one of the streets, one afternoon, looking as 
if hope were dead within her heart; and thinking it a caBC of 
need, my friend thrust ^a half crown into her hand, saying, 
" Here! I think you need that." The poor creature looked at 
him for a moment, and, without saying -a word, burst into a 
flood of tears. My experience with a little youngster of six, 
whose whole clothing was a sort of tow shirt, and who per- 
sistently begged for a penny, which I at last gave him, was 
somewhat different, for he dashed off with a shout, and, as I 
paused on the comer of the street, an army of yoxmg ragar 
muffins seemed to start out from every nook and cranny, with 
outstretched arms and rags fluttering in the breeze, and shrill 
cries of " 6i' me one, gi' me a penny," so that I was glad to 
take refuge in the cab I had signalled. 

From Liverpool, instead of starting directly for London, I 


concluded to go to Scotland, passing through the Lake district 
en route. If the reader will look at a good map of England 
and Scotland, and find Solway Firth, which is on the west 
coast, and then look at the country immediately south of it, 
occupying a portion of the counties of Cumberland, West- 
moreland, and Lancaster, he will see that it is full of lakes and 
mountains, and will find, on visiting it, that its picturesque 
attractions are unequalled in any other part of England. 
Additional interest is imparted to the Lake district from its 
being the haunt and home of many of England's most cele- 
brated modem poets ; and inspired, doubtless, by its lovely 
views and quiet beauty of landscape, from here have emanated 
some of their best compositions. 

We left the main road in our journey westward at a place 
called Oxenholme, and there took a 'bus, which carried us 
down to Lake Windermere. This lake is a beautiful, irregu- 
lar sheet of water, eleven miles in length and about a mile 
wide, and numerous little islands add to its picturesque ap- 
pearance, the scenery being soft and graceful; the gentle 
slopes and eminences that surround it, and the numerous 
country-seats and cottages peeping from the wooded slopes, 
combining to render it one of those pictures of quiet beauty 
that English poets delight to sing of The hotel that we 
rested at was perched upon a commanding eminence, from 
which a delightful view of the lake and surroimding sceneiy 
was obtained. 

The pretty village of Bowness, near by, attracted my atten- 
tion, this being my first experience in an English countiy 
village ; and its appearance was in many respects novel, and 
unlike what I had expected. First, I was struck at the entire 
absence of wooden houses ; wood is scarce here ; the houses 
are all built of stone, about the color of our stone walls in the 
country towns of New England, the stones about two feet 
square, and irregular in shape. A little rustic porch of wood, 
with the bark on, is sometimes built before the door, and this 
is overrun with ivy, or some climbing and flowering plant. 
Some of the more pretentious houses had stone pordies ; but 

■^ ^^^^^XC1^I3SG RIDE. 37 

\ ^A. *^°^* t.1i.«ixia. was twined the beautiful ivy, 
11 to*^„viA,oir <**'^®^ Pia-xxts, ivom in and out of which hopped 

j^d*^^\a^e ^ V. ^ "^^^^ quite narrow, and Bome as cropked 
T^^t,t^t 0^ ^^ 5^^ soxupulously clean. There were no 
^ *^ ^^s\i\v^^P^' <^^I>s, ^lirt^piles, or worn-out tin ware about 
g^^^Y^^kx.^^^ c^b^y^^^^ii^S lit.t,le cottages or their vicinity; the 
dS^J -rxcsre Va ^^ , tih.^ "place had just been thoroughly swept 

•fipp^^^ .^y-^okX Viv^^"-^^y "txim. One reason for this is, I suppose, 
up ^^ ,^x-3^^^^^ Iveiro is utilized that a penny can be realized 
that ^^ ^^ -vvliati we make a litter with about an American 
j^poth ^ -ttxo kii^d, \s li^orc either sold, or turned to account in 
ho^^^ - -j^-^er ^w^y \ ^\vt certainly this air' of extreme neatness. 

fiOi^^ ^ -^^oticed TLTv Tuaxiy English villages, must, in a degree, 

^liicu -*- ^^^^r* soxno o£ tlieir tourists' disgust in America. I have 

acco^^ ^ xnan spiti on the floor here since I set foot in Eng- 

tio^^^^^^^g, -the -floors even of the village ale-houses are a striking 

to^i^^^^^^^^o -fcliose o£ our New England country taverns: spit- 

«ow!cWi*^ airs "to \ye an American national habit. 

dtvft^?^ ^ cjoieti rest at this charming spot, we chartered a 

^^'^ ^/t^'* arvd. started on a ride of twenty-three miles, for 

** &.o% c^^^ an. A of the charming drives I have had, this surpjisses 

^e«^^^ ^ xoad. ran along Lake Windermere to Ambleside, 

^. ^^\^e t,o Rydal Lake and Rydal Mount, Nab-Scar up 

Qjt^i^'^'^^, '^ise, in sight of Helvellyn, and past Thirlemere. 

•^\3S55$i5^^^\* ^,^g were beautiful — high hills, with little green- 

1^^ -^es set in among them, like flashing brilliants ; pretty 

©tioi:^^ ^g^ villages, like those already described; country- 

litt'V^ Aittle rustic arched stone bridges, with dark, cool trout- 

gca^^' gunning beneath them; grand country-seats, with 

©ttc^ . pQging entrances and porters' lodges; old ivy-clad 

tbc^^ and here and there a tall grove of trees, with the 

^^ awing in their branches. The bridges, walls, cottages, 
' ')0'^ '*' '' * ' ^ ' ' '* — "'^ — ' — ^' 

i^y» ^"jjg and meadows were a vivid green, and swai-ming 

^ \ttrches, with their dark stone-work relieved by clustering 
^ v» d a softened and pleasing appearance to the eye, while 

\ sheep and young lambs frisking about them, or on the 

38 HOHE OF thig: poets. 

The road continually gave us long reaches of these views, 
such as I had never seen before, except in paintings, or in 
the better class of English illustrated books. We passed 
Dove's Nest, where Mrs, Hemans lived for a year; saw Miss 
Martineau's pleasant and picturesque residence, Words- 
worth's house at Rydal Mount, and went to the little cottage 
on the borders of Grassmere Lake, where he dwelt when 
young, and wrote much of his best poetry ; then to the hum- 
ble cottage, not far from the lake shore, where De Quincey 

We di'ove to the churchyard in the little village of Grass- 
mere, to visit Wordsworth's grave, — a chai-ming spot, — the 
little church situated near a swift little stream, spanned by 
arched stone bridges, and surrounded by scenery of rustic 
beauty. The grave of the poet is marked by a plain stone, 
upon which are inscribed his own and his wife's name ; and 
not far from it is the grave of Hartley Coleridge. The 
secluded and beautiful spot seemed a fitting resting-place for 
the poet ; the gentle babble of the little stream, the peacefiil 
rustle of the grass in the churchyard, and the modest little 
daisies that bloomed upon the graves, all seemed to lend a 
tranquil and dreamy calm to the place, that made it appear 
as if hallowed to the poet's repose. 

Keswick, our next halting-place, is situated in a delightful 
vale, between Derwentwater, or Keswick Lake, and Bassen- 
thailewater, and surrounded by an amphitheatre of hills. 
The elegant Keswick Hotel is situated in a charming posi- 
tion, just out of the town, and in the centre of the great 
circle of hills — one of the finest and best-kept houses of 
the kind in nil England, From its gi-eat cofibe-room, or, as 
we should call it, dining-room, which runs nearly half the 
length of one side of the house, and the promenade, or balus- 
trade, which extends the whole length, is a most charming 
view, and the grounds of the house, which are quite exten- 
sive, are laid out quite handsomely, Fii^st came an elegant, 
close-shaven lawn, running one hundred feet from the hotel 
walk; then a green terrace, descended by ornamental stone 


steps; then a broad gravel walk, or mall, running round the 
estate ; and from this another broad, green lawn, sloping gen- 
tly down to the little Greta River, a stream of about twenty 
feet in width at this point, spanned, here and there, with 
arched stone bridges, and dashing off into several noisy little 

From this little park of the hotel there is a pretty view of 
the village of Keswick, with its dark stone-work houses, and 
English church tower, rising above. Beyond, on eveiy side 
in the huge circle, rise the lofty hill-tops, and here and there 
elegant coimtry-seats and villas sit enthroned, midway as it 
were in the mountain's lap, and some high up towards the 
breezy peaks. The verdant sides of the hiU are pencilled ofl^ 
as it were, with hedges, marking the division lines of prop- 
erty, and a winding road occasionally throws its brown tracks 
out amid the green. 

The Keswick Hotel is built of lighter colored stone than u 
generally used for houses there, and is finished off in such an 
expensive and ornamental style as to look quite like an Eng- 
lish hall or country-seat. It is owned, I think, by the rail- 
road company whose road passes here. The station is 
directly adjoining the house, and is reached by a glass-roofed 
walk, thirty or forty feet long. And here let m.e remark, that 
the excellent system, good management, and entire absence 
of noise, shrieking, puffing, blowing, whistling, and all sorts 
of disturbance that render a location near a railroad station 
in America so objectionable, were most striking. I never 
should have taken note of any anival or departure of trains 
from any noise of them ; for, save the distant whistle ap they 
approached, there was nothing to indicate their presence. 

The house is kept admirably. Such neatness, such thor- 
oughness, and such courteous attention, and such an incom- 
parable ciiisine arc, after one gets accustomed to English delib- 
eration, most gratifying to the tourist. There can be but few 
better places for the American traveller to see and enjoy 
English country life, and beautiful English scenery, than Kes- 
wick, and lit this beautiful house, in the month of May. 


We rambled round through the quaint village of Keswick, 
and of a Sunday morning took our way over two little stone 
bridges, on through a deep, shady English lane, with the 
trees arching overhead, and the hedges green at its side, -to 
Crossthwaite Church, built several hundred years ago, and 
with its rustic churchyard, beautiful and green, containing 
the graves of the poet Southey and his wife. I sat upon an 
old slab in the churchyard, and watched the pretty, rustic 
l)icture, as the bells sweetly chimed, and the villagers came 
to church ; some up the green lane by twos and threes, others 
across the fields and over stiles, threading their way among 
the churchyard mounds to the rural church. 

Wordsworth' describes in one of his poems the English 
rural church so perfectly that I cannot forbear making the 
extract, it was so appropriate to this, which stood amid 

** The vales and hiUs whose beauties hither ^rcw 
The poet's steps." 

In fact, Wordsworth's description might well be taken as a 
coiTcct one of almost any one of the picturesque English coun* 
try churches that the tourist sees here in the rm*al districts. 

" Not framed to nice proportions was the pile, 
But large and massy, for duration built ; 
With pillars crowded, and the roof upheld 
By naked rafters, intricately crossed. 
Like leafless underboughs in some thick grove, 
All withered by the depth of shade above. 
Admonitory texts inscribed tlie walls, 
Each in its ornamental scroll enclosed; 
Each also crowned with winged heads — a pair 
Of rudely painted cherubim. The floor 
Of nave and aisle, in unpretending guise, 
Was occupied by oaken benches ranged 
In seemly rows ; the chancel only showed 
Some inoffensive marks of eartiily state 
And vain distinction. A capacious pew 
Of sculptured oak stood here, with drapery lined ; 
And marble monuments were here displayed 
Upon the walls ; and on the floor beneath 


Sepulchral stones appeared, with emblems grayen» 
And foot-worn epitaphs, and some with small 
And shining effigies of brass inlaid." 

The marks of earthly state and vain distinction in the 
diurch were two old stone effigies of Lord Derwentwater 
and his wife, died in 1527, with a very legible inscription in 
brass setting forth that fact, and a white marble effigy and 
monument to Southey. 

In the churchyard is a plain black slate tombstone over the 
poet's grave, on which is inscribed, " Here lies the body of 
Robert Southey, LL. D^ Poet Lam-eatc. Bom August 12^ 
1774; died March 21, 1843. For forty years resident in 
this parish. Also, of Edith, his wife, bom May 20, 1774 ; 
died . November 16, 1837." Returning home, we passed 
" Greta Hall," the poet's residence, situated in Keswick, a 
plain mansion, upon a slight elevation just back from the 
street, comnianding a good view of the sunounding sceneiy, 
and with a pleasant, grassy slope in front, and beautiful 
shrubbery round and about its well-kept gi-ounds. 

Another pleasant walk was one taken up a winding road 
on the hill-side, to a spot containing some of the Druidical 
remains found in different parts of England. This is known 
here as the Draids' Temple; and consists of a great circle of 
upright stones, six or eight feet in height, and set up at reg- 
ular intervals, with two or three placed together at one side 
of the circle, as if for a gigantic altar. The spot for this 
temple was admirably chosen by the ancient priests of the 
oak and mistletoe for their mysterious rites, being upon a 
sort of natural platform, or hill shaped like a truncated cone, 
while all round rises a natural circle of lesser liills. 

From Keswick to Penrith is a pleasant ride by rail. Near 
the station in Penrith are the ruins of an old castle, for a long 
time the residence of the Duke of Gloster, afterwards Rich- 
ard III. From this spot we started on a pleasant walk for 
Brougham Hall, the seat of Lord Brougham, about two and 
a half miles distant, passing on the way a curious formation 
in a field, denominated King Arthur's Round Table. It 


very much resembles places in waste land in America, where 
a travelling circus has left its ring-mark, that becomes over- 
grown with turi^ only the circle was much larger. This field 
and formation were carefully preserved by the owner, it being, 
as we were informed, one of those places where the Knights 
of King Arthur's time used to exercise themselves in the 
practice of hoi-semanship and feats of arms. Perhaps it was. 

Brougham Hall is situated upon a liill not far from the ruins 
of Brougham Castle, and is an old and picturesque building, 
commanding, from its .elevated position, extensive views of 
the surrounding country. The place was invested with a 
peculiar interest, as being the residence of one of England's 
greatest orators and statesmen. His voice, since our visit to 
his beautiful home, however, has been hushed forever, and he 
has laid him down to sleep with the humblest. 

Owing to its situation and prospects, the English guide- 
books style this castle the " Windsor of the North." The 
grounds are beautifully laid out — a broad lawn, bounded by 
a grove of old trees, with the rooks cawing and circling about 
them ; the great paved court-yard of the castle, upon which 
the stables and servants' rooms looked out; a tower on the 
stables, with clock and bell. From this, a Gothic arched 
gateway opened into another square and more pretentious 
court-yard, upon which the inner windows of his lordship's 
family looked. On one side of this court-yai'd, the castle 
wall was completely covered with a thick, heavy mass of 
beautiful ivy, the window spaces and turrets all being cut out 
in shape, giving it a novel and picturesque appearance. In 
the centre of this court-yard was a pretty grass plat. 

The other front of the castle looked out upon the estate, 
and the view from the windows upon this side was lovely. 
The fine lawn and trimly laid out grounds, the gradually slop- 
ing landscapes stretching down to the little River Eamont, 
winding on its tortuous way, and spanned, as usual, by the 
pretty arched bridges, and the hills of Ulls water for a back- 
ground, made a charming prospect. There were so many 
novel and interesting things to see in the different apartments 

iNSiDS LOBD bbotjgham's besidekce. 43 

of the castle, that description will in some degree appear but 

We first went into the armor-room, used on great occasions 
a8 a dining-hall. The apartment was not very large, but the 
walls and niches were filled with rare and curious arms and 
armor of various periods, and that had been used by historic 
personages. Here we were shown the skull of one of Lord 
Brougham's ancestors, carefully preserved under a glass case 
— a Knight Templar, who fought in the first cnisade ; this 
BkuU was taken, together with a spur, fi'om his coffin a few 
years ago, when the tomb was opened, where he was found 
lying with crossed feet, as a good Knight Templar should lie. 
At one end of this hall was a little raised gallery about five 
feet from the floor, separated from the room by a high Gothic 
screen, through which a view of the whole could be obtained. 
This platfoim led to an elegant little octagon chamber, a few 
steps higher up, occupied by Lord Brougham's son as a sort of 
lounging and writing room. In this apartment were a few 
choice and beautiful pictures ; one of dogs fighting, presented 
to Lord Brougham by Louis Napoleon, some original Titians, 
Vandykes, Tintorettos, Hogarth, Ac. 

We next visited the drawing-room, which was hung all 
over with beautiful Gobelin tapestry, wrought to represent 
the four quarters of the globe in productions, fruit, flowers, 
Vegetation, and inhabitants — a royal ^fl and an elegant sight. 
Here were also displayed a fine Sevres dessert service, the gift 
of Louis Philippe, the great purses of state presented to 
Lord Brougham when he was chancellor, as a sort of badge 
or insignia of office. These were rigged on fire-frame screens, 
and were heavily gold-embroidered afiliirs, twenty-four mches 
square or more, and worth over three hundred pounds each. 
Here al^o was a glass case filled with gifts made to Lord 
Brougham by different distinguished personages, such as gold 
snuffboxes fi-om different cities, watches, a miniature, taken 
from life, of the great Napoleon, presented by JoFcph Bona- 
parte, &c. 

The library, which was well stocked with choice books, 


was another elegant room, most artistically arranged. Here 
portraits of great writers, by great artists, occupied con- 
spicuoos positions ; and among other noteworthy pictures in 
this room was one of Hogarth, painted by himself a portrait 
of Voltaire and others. 

The ceilings of these apartments were laid out in squares 
or diamond indentation, elegantly frescoed, or carved fi'Oin 
the solid oak, the color formed to harmonize with the ftir- 
niture and upholstery. The ceiling of the drawing-room was 
occupied by the different quarterings of the coat of aims of 
the Brougham family, in carv^ed work of gold and colors, one 
to each panel, very elaborately finished. 

When we were escorted to the sleeping apartments, new sur- 
prises awaited us. Here was one complete suite of rooms, — 
chambers, dressing-room, closet, &c., — all built and furnished 
in the early Norman style ; the old, carved, black, Norman 
bedstead, hundreds of years old; gUt leather tapestry on the 
walls, decorated with Norman figures of knights, horses and 
spearmen; huge Norman-looking chairs; gi'eat brass-bound 
oaken chests, black with age and polished by the hand of 
time ; rude tables ; chests of drawers ; the doora and windows 
with semicircular arched head-pieces, the former of massive 
black oak, with huge brass chevron-shaped hinges, quaint 
door-handles, and bolts of the period represented, and the 
various Ornaments of zigzag, billet, nail-head, &c., of Norman 
architecture appearing in every direction. Something of the 
same style is seen in some of our Episcopal churches in 
America, but it is more modernized. Here the Norman rooms 
were Norman in all details, the dark, old wood was polished 
smooth as steel, the brass work upon the doors and old chests 
gleamed like beaten gold, and the whole picture of quaint, 
old tracery of arches and naiTow windows, tapestiy, carving, 
and massive furniture, conveyed an impression of wealth, 
solidity, and substantial beauty. 

From the Norman rooms we passed into the Norman 
gallery, a corridor of about fifty feet long and sixty feet wide, 
upon the sides of which are painted a complete copy of the 

A B0AD-6IDE INN. 46 

wouderous Bayeaux tapestry, wrought by Matilda, queen of 
William I^ and representing the conquest of England — the 
only perfect copy said to have been made. The different 
sleeping apartments were each furnished in different styles ; 
in one was an elegantly carved bedstead, of antique design, 
which cost four hundred guineas, and was a present to Lord 

Lord Brougham's own study, and his fevorite resort for 
reading, writing, and thinking, was one of the plainest, most 
unpretending rooms in the whole building; the furniture of 
the commonest kind, the pictures old impressions of Hogarth's, 
Marriage a la Mode, and the Industrious and Idle Apprentice, 
in cheap frames, and that familiar to Americans, of Humboldt 
in his study. Two battered hats, hung upon a wooden hat- 
tree in the comer, — hats that Punch has made almost histor- 
ical, and certainly easily recognizable wherever seen, — com- 
pleted the picture of the simple apartment where one of the 
greatest statesmen of the present generation was wont to 
muse upon the affairs of one of the mightiest nations of the 
world, at whose helm his was the guiding hand. 

Returning on our way to the railway station, we lunched 
in the tap-room of a little wayside inn, " The White Hart," 
just one of those places that we Americans read of in English 
novels, and which arc so unlike anything we have at home, 
that we sometimes wonder if the description of them is not 
also a part of the writer's creation. But here was one just 
as if it had stepped out of an English story book ; the little 
room for guests had a clean tile floor ornamented with al- 
ternate red and white chalk stripes, a fireplace of immense 
height and width, round which the village gossips probably 
sipped their ale o' winter nights, the wo.oden chairs and 
benches and the wooden table in the centre of the room, 
spotlessly clean and white from repeated sciubbings; half a 
dozen long clay tobacco pipes were in a tray on the table 
for smokers, clustering vines and sno^vy curtains shaded the 
windows, and there was an air of quiet comfort and somno- 
lency about the place quite attractive to one who was fatigued 
with a long and dusty walk. 


mcnso embankment, called the Mound, also connects the old 
and new city, its slopes descending east and west into beauti- 
ful gardens towards the road-bed. Upon the Mound are the 
Royal Institution, Gallery of Fine Arts, the former a sort of 
Pantheon-looking building, and both with plenty of space 
around them, so that they look as if placed there expressly to 
be seen and admired. 

Princes Street, which is one of the finest in Great Britain, 
runs east and west. It is entirely open upon the south side, 
and separated only by a railing from the lovely gardens that 
run down into the hollow I have mentioned, between the old 
and new town. Looking across the hollow, we see the old 
city, where the historic steeples of St. Giles and others mingle 
among the lofty houses in the extended panoramic view, the 
eastern end of which is completed by the almost impregnable 
old castle, rich in historic interest, which lifts its battlements 
from its rocky seat two hundred feet above the surrounding 
country, and is a grand and picturesque object. The city, 
both old and new, appears to be built of stone resembling our 
darkest granite. The old town is built upon a ridge, gradu- 
ally ascending towards the castle, and is a curious old place, 
with its lofty eight and ten-stoiy houses, its narrow lanes, 
called " wjTids,'' or " closes," and swaiining population. 

The " closes " are curious affairs, being sort of narrow en- 
closures, running up in between lofty buildings, with only one 
place of ingress and egress, that could, in old times, be closed 
by a portcullis, the remains of some of them being still in ex- 
istence, and were built as defences against incursions of the 

Here in the old town are many streets, the names of which 
will be recognized by all familiar with Scott — the High 
Street, Grass Market, Cow Gate, and Canon Gate, We 
went, one afternoon, and stood in the Grass Market, amid a 
seething mass of humanity that fills it. Lofty old houses rise 
high about on all sides, every one with a history, and some of 
them two or three hundred years old — houses the windows 
of which were oft packed with eager faces to see the criminal 


ezecntioQS here. Some of these houses, Scott says in his 
Heart of Mid-Lothian, were formerly the property of the 
Knights Templars and Knights of St. John, and still exhibit, 
on their points and gables, the cross of those orders in iron — 
houses that looked down on the furious mob that hung Cap- 
lain Porteous upon the dyer^s pole, over the very spot where we 
stood. Then, walking down towards the other extremity, we 
entered the Canon Qate, extending down the hill towards 
Holyrood Palace — Canon Gate, which was the residence of 
the wealthy canons of the church when Holyrood was an ab- 
bey, and after the Reformation the abode of the Scottish 
aristocracy. At one end of the old city stands Holyrood, at 
the other the castle rock rears its rugged height. 

The new city is beautiMly laid out in broad streets and 
squares, which are adorned with imposing buildings, monu- 
ments, and bronze statues of celebrated men ; but I am not 
to ^ve a guide-book description of Edinburgh, although there 
is so much that interests in its streets and buildings that one 
is almost tempted to do so. 

The very first visit one desires to make is to the lofty old 
castle that overlooks the city. It is situated on an elevated 
basaltic rock, and is separated from the town by an esplanade 
about three hundred feet wide, and three hundred and fifty 
long. The castle is said to have been founded in the year 
617, and contains many curious relics of antiquity, and is 
fraught with historic interest, having been the scene of sa 
many crimes, romantic adventures, captivities, and sieges, 
within the past three or four hundred years — scenes that have 
been the most vivid in the pages of history, and foimed an 
almost inexhaustible theme for the most graphic pictures of 
the novelist. 

Among the most notable captures will be recollected that 
of the Earl of Randolph, nephew to Robert Bruce. And also, 
when in the possession of the English King Edward I., thiity 
bravo fellows, guided by a young man called William Frank, 
who had often climbed up and down the Castle Rock to visit 
his sweetheart, ventured one night, in their heavy iron armor, 



with their swords and axes, to scale the most precipitous side 
overhanging the West Piinces Street Gardens, and, succeed- 
ing, quickly overcame the garrison. In 1341, when the castle 
was again held by the English, Sir William Douglas and Sir 
Simon Fraser took it by stratagem and surprise in broad day- 
light, having sent in a cart loaded with wine, which was dex- 
terously overturned in the gateway, so that the gate could 
not be closed when the Scottish soldiers rushed forward to 
the attack. 

The broad esplanade before the castle affords a fine view, 
and is used as a place for drilling the troops, the castle having 
accommodations for two thousand men. We passed across 
this, and by the statue of the Duke of York, son of George 
in., and uncle of Queen Victoria, and the monumental cross, 
erected in memory of the officers of the Highland re^bnent 
who fell in the years 1857 and 1858, in the Indian Rebellion 
War. On over the moat and draw-bridge, and through the 
old portcullis gate, over which was the old prison in which 
the Earl of Argyle, and numerous adherents of the Stuarts, 
were confined previous to their execution, and after passing 
beneath this, were fairly within the castle. One point of in- 
terest was the old sally-port, up which Dundee climbed to 
have a conference with the Duke of Gordon, when on his way 
to' raise the Highland clans in favor of Bang James H., whilo 
the convention were assembled in the Parliament House, and 
were proceeding to settle the crown upon William and Mary. 

Dundee, accompanied by only thirty picked men, rode 
swiftly along a street in the old city, nearly parallel to the 
present line of Princes Street, while the drums in the town 
were beating to arms to pursue him ; and leaving his men in 
a by-place, clambered up the steep rock at this point, and 
urged the duke to accompany him, but without effect. Scott^s 
song of "Bonnie Dundee" tells us, — 

" Dandee he is mountedi he rides up the street, 
The hells they ring hackward, the drums they are beat ; 
But the proYOst, deuce man ! said, ' Just e*en let him be, 
For the town is well rid of that de'il o' Dundee.' " 


Dondee rode off towards Stirling, with the threat that, — 

'<If there's lords in the Southland, there's chiefs in the North; 
There are wild dunnie wassals, three thousand times three, 
Will CTj, * Hey for the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee I ' " 

From what is known as the Bomb Battery an excellent 
view of Edinburgh is obtained. Here is a curious piece of 
early artillery, of huge size, designated Mons Meg, made at 
Mons in Brittany, in 1476, of thick iron bars hooped together, 
and twenty inches diameter at the bore. Near this is the 
Chapel of Queen Margaret, a little Norman building eight 
hundred yeara old, used by Margaret, Queen of Malcolm III^ 
daughter of Edward the Outlaw, {uid granddaughter of Ed- 
mund Ironside, who, it will be remembered, disputed the 
crown of England for so many years with Canute. 

One of the most interesting, as well as one of the oldest 
rooms, was a little irregular-shaped apartment, known as 
Queen Mary's Room, being the room in which James VI. 
was bom, in 1566. The origmal ceiling remains, with the 
initials J. R. and M. R., surmoimted by a crown, and wrought 
into the panels. From the window of this little' room, it is 
said, the infant king was let down to the street, two hundred 
and fifty feet below, by means of a rope and basket, and car- 
ried off secretly to Stirling Castle, to be baptized in the Ro 
man Catholic faith. When James made his first visit to Scot- 
land, in 1617, after his accession to the English throne, he 
caused the royal arms to be elaborately painted on the waU, 
and underneath his mother's prayer, which still remains in 
quaint old English letters, somewhat difficult to decipher: — 

'* Lord Jesu Chryst that crownit was with Thomse 
Preserve the birth quhais Badyie heir is borne. 
And send hir Sonne successive to reigne stille 
Lang in this Realme, if that it be Thy will. 
Als grant O Lord quhat ever of Hir proseed 
Be to Thy Glorie, Honer and Prais sobied." 

The view firom the windows, here at the e^t and south 


sides of the old castle, is varied and romantic. The curious 
old houses in the Grass Market, far down below ; the quaint, 
blackened old streets of the old city ; the magnificent towers 
of Herriot's Hospital against the blue sky ; and stretching 
beyond tha city, the fine landscape, with the familiar Borough 
moor, where the Scottish hosts were wont to muster by clans 
and chieftains, — form a scene of picturesque beauty not soon 

Tiie armory of the castle contains many interesting weap- 
ons of ancient warfare. Among the most notable was a coat 
of mail worn by one of the Douglases in Cromwell's time ; 
Rob Roy's dagger; some beautiful steel pistols, used by some 
of the Highland followers of Prince Charles Stuart at the 
battle of Culloden; and cuirasses worn by the French cui- 
rassiers at Waterloo. The crown room contains the regalia 
of Scotland, and the celebrated crown of Robert Bruce. 
The regalia of Scotland consist of a crown, sceptre, and 
sword of state, the latter a most beautiful piece of workman- 
ship, the scabbard elegantly ornamented with chased and 
wrought work, representing oak leaves and acorns, and which 
was a present from Pope Julius 11. to James IV. Particular 
interest attaches to these regalia, from the fact of their discov- 
ery through Scott's exertions, in 1818, after a disappeai*anoe 
of about one hundred and eleven years. The crown is the dia- 
dem that pressed the valiant brow of Robert the Bruce, and 
the devoted head of Mary, and was placed upon the infitnt 
brow of her son. Charles IE. was the last monarch who 
wore this regal emblem, which is connected with so many 
fitirrijig events in Scottish history. 

From Edinburgh Castle, a gradually descending walk, 
through some of the most interesting portions of the old 
city, will take the visitor to Holyrood Palace and Abbey, — 
quite a distance, but which should be walked rather than 
rode, if the tourist is a pedestrian of moderate powers, as it 
is thronged with so many points of historic interest, to which 
I can only make a passing aUusion. The High Street, as it is 
called, is one* of the principal thix)ugh which we pass, and in 


old times was considered very fine ; but its glory departed 
with the building of the new portion of the city, and the 
curious old " closes," in the streets diverging from it, are the 
habitations of the lowest class of the population. 

Bow Street, which, if I remember rightly, runs into Grass 
Market from High Street, was formerly known as "West Bow, 
from an arch or bow in the city wall. We passed down this 
' quaint old street, which used to be the principal avenue by 
which carriages reached the upper part of the city. It was 
a curve of lofly houses, filthy kennels, and noisy children, 
spirit^hops, groceries, and garbage; yet up this street had 
ridden, in old times, Anne of Denmark, James I., Charles I., 
Oliver Cromwell, Charles II., and James 11. It was down 
this street that the Earl of Argyle and Marquis of Montrose 
were dragged, in the hangman's cart, to execution in the 
Grass Market, which is situated at its foot, and to which I 
have previously alluded. Porteous was also dragged down ' 
through this street to execution, by the rioters who took him 
from his jailers. 

In the old city we visited a court called Dimbar's Close, 
where, after the victory of Dunbar, some of Cromwell's sol- 
diers were quartered. Here remains a carved inscription, 
said to bear the oldest date in the city. It reads as follows : 

g faitft tn dfirfot. . 
®nlte Zdibit, M^^Mh 

St. Giles Church, in High Street, is a notable building, and 
was, in popish times, the cathedral of the city, named after 
St. Giles, Edinburgh's patron saint. I will not tire the reader 
with a visit to its interior; but it was here that took place 
that incident, which every school-boy recollects, of Jenny 
Geddes throwing her stool at the head of the ofliciating cler- 
gyman, upon his attempt to read the liturgy as prescribed by 
Archbishop Laud, and which it was proposed to inti-oduce 
into Scotland. 

The "Solemn League and Covenant" was sworn to and 
signed in this church, in 1643. Just within the railings sur- 


rounding the old church stands the shaft of the old cross of 
Edinburgh; and the site of the ToUbooth, which figures in 
Scott's novels, is marked, near by, by the figure of a heart in 
the pavement — "The Heart of Mid-Lothian." Numerous 
other points of historic interest might be enumerated, did 
space permit. We must, as we pass rapidly on, not forget 
to take a view of the quaint old rookery-looking mansion of 
John Knox, the Reformer, with a steep flight of steps, leadmg 
up to a door high above the sidewalk, and the inscription 
upon it, which I could not read, but which I was informed was 

%ute (Soti dbobt all, wxt 
g0ut WefflfjlKJur ais goutgrif, 

and the massive-looking old Canon Gate Tollbooth, erected in 
the reign of James VI. On we go through the Canon Gate, 
, till we emerge in the open space in front of that ancient 
dwelling-place of Scottish royalty, Holjrrood Palace. 

Holyrood Palace is interesting from the numerous important 
events in Scottish history that have transpired within its 
walls. It is a great quadrangular building, with a court-yard 
ninety-four feet square. Its front is flanked with double cas- 
tellated towers, the tops peaked, and looking something like 
the lid of an old-fashioned coffee-pot, or an inverted tin tun- 
nel, with the pipe cut off The embellishments in front of 
the entrance to the palace and the beautiful fountain were 
completed under the du^ection, and at the expense, of the late 
Prince Albert. The palace is said to have been founded by 
James IV., quite early in the year 1500, and it was his chief 
residence up to the time of his death, at Flodden, in 1513. 
Some of the events that give it its historic celebrity are 
those that transpired during the life of Mary, Queen of Scots, 
who made it her ordinary residence after her return to her 
native country, in 1561. It was here that Mary was mar- 
ried to Damley, and we were shown the piece of stone flag- 
ging upon which they knelt dming the ceremony, and which 
we profaned with our own knees, with true tourist fervor; 
here that Bizzio, or, as they spell it in Scotland, Riccio, was 


murdered in ber very presence ; here that she manied Both- 
well, endured thosjB fiery discussions with the Scotch Re* 
formers, and wept at the rude and coarse upbraidings of 
John Knox ; here that James VI. brought his queen, Anne 
of Denmark, in 1590, and had her crowned in the chapel ; 
here, also, was Charles I. crowned, and here, after the battle 
of Dunbar, in 1650, did Cromwell quarter a part of his forces. 

In modem times, George IV. visited the palace in 1822, 
granting, after his departure, over twenty thousand pounds 
for repairs and improvements ; and in 1850, Queen Victoria, 
Prince Albert, and the royal children made a visit there, and 
since that time she stops annually on her way to and from 
her Highland residence at the Castle of Balmoral, for a brief 
period here at old Holyrood. 

To those familiar at all, from reading history or the ro- 
mances and poems, with those events in which this old pile 
occupies a prominent position, it of course possesses a great 

In the broad, open space before the palace, the elaborate 
fountain, with its floriated pinnacles, figures, Ac, will attract 
attention, although it ill accords with the old buildings. 
The most interesting apartments in the palace are those of 
Mary, Queen of Scots. 

Passing in at the entrance gate, and buying tickets at a 
little office very much like a theatrical ticket office, we visited 
the more ancient part of the palace, and entered first Lord 
Darnley's rooms. These were hung with fine specimens of 
ancient tapestry, upon which Cupids are represented plucking 
fruit, and throwing it down to others ; oak trees and leaves, 
Cupids plucking' grapes, &c. Another scene was a lake and 
castle, with frait trees and Cupids; also figures of nude 
youngsters, turning somersaults and performing different 
antics. Another room contains two pieces of tapestry, tell- 
ing the story of the flaming cross that appeared to Constan- 
tine the Great, the motto. In hoc signo viiices^ embroidered 
on the comer of the hangings ; Darnley's elegant armor, &c. 
Other fine pieces of tapestry are in Darnley's bed-room and 


dressing-room. Portraits of Scottish kings also adorn the 

We were then shown Queen Maiy's private staircase, that 
by which Damley admitted the conspirators up from a little 
tuiTct room to assassinate Rizzio. Maiy's audience chamber 
is a room about twenty feet square, the ceiling divided into 
panelled compartments, adorned with initials and armorial 
bcarmgs, and the walls hung with tapestry, upon which were 
Tirought various scenes, now sadly faded by the withering 
breath of time. These tapestry hangings the curious traveller 
soon becomes accustomed to, and the more, I think, one sees 
of them, the more he admires them — the scenes of ancient 
mythology or allegorical design so beautifully wrought as to 
rival even oil paintings in beauty of color and design, and 
exciting a wonder at the skill and labor that were expended 
in producing with many colored threads these wotidi'ous loom 
mvosaics. In the audience chamber stands the bed of Charles 
I., and upon this couch Prince Charles, the unfortunate de- 
scendant of the former Occupant, slept in September, 1745, 
and the Duke of Cumberland, his conqueror, rested upon the 
same couch. Cumberland, yes, we recollect him ; he figured 
in LochiePs Warning, Campbell's beautifiil poem — 

** Proud Cumberland prancesi insulting the slain." 

Some rich old chairs of the same period, and other furniture, 
are also in this room, which was the scene of Mary's alterca- 
tion with Knox. 

Looking upon the antique bed, one can see how, despite 
care, the hand of time leaves its indelible impress upon all 
that is of man's creation. You can scarcely imagine how 
tune affects an old state bed. No matter what be the care 
or exclusion from sunlight, the breath of time leaves its mark; 
the canopy and hangings gradually fade and deaden, the very 
life seems to be extracted, and they look like an old piece of 
husk or dried toast, light, porous, and moulding ; the wood- 
work, however, grows dark, and apparently as solid as iron ; 
the quaint carving stands out in jetty polish, rich and luxuri- 


ant — a study and a wonder of curious and fantastic art and 
sculpture in wood. 

Queen Mary's room is hung with a beautiful piece of tap- 
estry, representing the fall of Phaeton ; half hidden by this 
tapestry is the door opening upon the secret stair by which 
Rizzio's murderers entered ; upon the wall hang portraits of 
Maiy at the age of eighteen, portraits of Queen Elizabeth and 
King Henry VIII., presented her by Elizabeth; here also 
was furniture used by the queen, and the baby linen basket 
sent her by Elizabeth. 

From here we enter that oft-described apartment so cele- 
brated in Scottish history — the queen's supper room, where 
Riz^o was murdered. Its small size generally excites as- 
tonishment. Here, into this little room, which half a dozen per- 
sons would fill, rushed the armed conspirators, overturning 
the table and dragging their shrieking victim from the very 
feet of the queen, as he clung to her dress for protection, 
stabbing him as they went beneath her very eyes, forcing 
him out into the audience chamber, and left him with over 
fifty ghastly wounds, fi'om which his life ebbed in a crimson 
torrent, leaving its incfiaceable stain, the indelible mark upon 
the oaken floor, not more indelible than the blackened stain 
which rests upon the names of the perpetrators of this brutal 

Adown the little staircase which the conspiratora passed, 
we go through a low door into the court-yard. Over the 
top of this little door, a few years ago, in a crevice of the 
masonry, an antique dagger-blade was discovered by some 
workmen ; and as the murderera escaped thi-ough this door, ii 
was surmised that this was one of the very daggers used in 
the assassiaation. 

But we lenvc the place behind, and enter the romanlio 
ruins of the old abbey. How interesting are these picturesque 
ruined remains of the former glory and power of the chr«rch 
of Rome in England ! Then- magnificent proportions, beauty 
of architecture, and exquisite decoration bespeak the wealth 
of the church and the wondrous taste of those who reared 


4 * 

these piles, which, in their very ruin, command our admira 
tion. The abbey is immediately adjoining the palace, — its 
front a beautiful, style of early English architecture, and 
the noble, high-arched door, with cluster pillars, elaborately 
sculptured with fretwork figures of angels, flowers, vines, &c^ 
— one of those specimens of stone carving that excite wonder 
at the amount of patient work, labor, and skill that must have 
b(yen required in their production. 

The abbey was founded in 1128, and the fi'agment which 
remains formed the nave of the ancient building. Here ai*o 
the graves of David II-, James II., Damley, and that of the 
ill-starred Rizzio, and other eminent peraonages, some of 
whom, judging from the ornaments upon the marble slabs 
of their graves, were good Freemasons and Knights Tem- 
plars, — the perfect ashler, setting maul, and square upon the 
former, and the rude-cut figures of reclining knights, with 
crossed feet and upraised hands, upon othei-s, indicating the 

But the gairish sun shines boldly down into the very centre 
of what was once the dim-lighted, solemn old abbey, with 
its cool, quiet cloisters, that scarce echoed to the monk's 
sandalled footstep, and the gracefully-pointed ai*ches, sup- 
ported by clusters of stone pillars, throw their quaint shadows 
on the greensward, now, where was once the chapel's stone 
pavement ; the great arched window through which the light 
once fell in shattei-ed rainbows to the floor, stands now, slender 
and weird-like, with its tracery against the heaven, like a 
skeleton of the past ; and the half-obliterated or undecipher- 
able vain-glorious inscriptions upon the slabs, here and there, 
are all that remain of this monument of man's power and 
pride — a monument beautiful in its very ruins, and romantic 
from the halo of associations of the dim past that surround it. 

The new city, to which I have referred, is a creation of the 
last hundred years, the plans of it being published in 1768. 
The two great streets are George Street and Princes Street, 
the former filled with fine stores, and adorned with statues of 
William Pitt, George IV., and many pubUc buildings and 
beautiful squares. 


^e, xn. lEclixil>iirgh, we began to hear the "bun*" of the 
-^4^ tongno. jMany of the salesmen in the stores where 
^cff 4>^ go -fco \y\xy Scotch Imen or Scotch pebble jewelry, the 
u^^^ ^laicLs "wliich were temptingly displayed, or the wann 
m^i(?^-i 47tliirig -^vlziicli New Englanders appreciate, seemed to 
xAfi^ t ^^ tongixes roughened, as it were, to a sort of pleasant 
uv^^ ^<^ spealsiog the English language, 
^jjl-tr ^^4l>^^^ oxko ond of Princes Street rises Calton Hill, with 
\3ip ^^^^ishe A xxsitional monument, designed to represent the 
vta ^^ -t Pstir^lxexion at Athens ; and in one respect it does, 
^\ajB«iC>^ sort of ruin, or, I may say, a fragment of ruin, con- 
\)eVx^S ^ rd ^ dozen splendid Doiic columns, — forthemonu- 
^VeXVJiS Y^cb^ ^w^as to commemorate the Scotchmen who fell at 
^cB^ ^ ^ -^ as never finished. Here also is a round monument 
^^^^^ oO^ axicl a dome, supported by pillars, a monument 
to ^^ ^^5or Dugald Stewart; while a monument to Bums 
to * ^ xxP^^ *^^ Regent's Road, close at hand. The view 
'^ ^Vv \oi^S ^^sta of Princes Street from Calton Hill, in which 
ve <^^^ take in at one sweep the Scott monument, the 
\ tidid classical-looking structures of the Royal Institution 
®*^ n Rational Gallery, the great castle on its rocky perch, 
«d then turning about on the other side and viewing the 
gnuare, solid old palace of Holjrrood, with the fragment of 
^.Qined abbey attached, and rising high above them the emi- 
nence known as Arthur's Seat, and the winding cliffs of Salis- 
bury Crags, forms a panoramic scene of rare beauty and in- 

Speaking of interest, I cannot leave Edinburgh without 
referring to the interesting collection of curious relics at the 
Antiquarian Museum. Think of standing in John B^nox's 
pulpit, and thumping, with your curious, wonder-seeking hand, 
the same desk that had held his Bible, or been smitten by his 
indignant palm, as he denounced the church of Rome, nearly 
three hundred years ago ; of looking upon the very stool that 
Jenny Geddes launched at the h^ad of the Dean of St. Giles, 
when he undertook to introduce the liturgy into Scotland, in 
1566 ; and seeing one of the very banners of the Covenanters 


that had been borne amid the smoke and fire of their battles; 
naj, there, in a glass case, we saw the old Scotch Covenant 
itself with the signatures of Montrose, Lothian, and their 
associates. Here also were Gustavus Adolphus's spurs, Rob- 
ert Bums's pistols, the very glass that Prince Charlie drank 
from before the disastrous battle of Culloden; the origi- 
nal draft of inquiry into the massacre of Glencoe, dated 
1656, original autographic letters from Charles VI., Prince 
Charles Edward Stuart, Cromwell, and Mary, Queen of 
Scots. This was reading Scottish iiistory from the original 

Here was the flag of Scotland that flouted the breeze at th3 
battle of Dunbar, in 1650, the pikes of Charles II.'s pikemen, 
and the old Scottish six-ell speai-s ; naifs from the coffin and 
a portion of the very shroud of Robert Bruce, the blue ribbon 
of Prince Charlie, worn as Knight of the Garter, in 1745, and 
the very ring given to him by Flora Macdonald at parting. 
Among the horrors of the collection is " the Maiden," a rude 
guillotine of two upright posts, between which a loaded axe 
blade was hoisted by a cord, and let fall upon the devoted 
neck beneath. By this very instrument fell the Regent Mor- 
ton, in 1581, Sir John Gordon, in 1644, the Earl of Argyle, in 
1685, and many others — a bloody catalogue. 

The collection of ancient implements, coins, seals, medal- 
lions, weapons, &c., was interesting as well as valuable and 
extensive, comprising many that have been exhumed from 
ancient ruins, and antique relics, more or less connected with 
the history of the country. The Free National Gallery con- 
tains a noble collection of elegant pictures by eminent artists 
of old and modem times, and a fine statue of Bums. 

The ride up Salisbury Crags to the eminence known as 
Arthur's Seat, which rises behind Holyrood eight hundred 
feet high, is one of the great attractions to the tourist ; the 
drive to it by the fine carriage road, known as "Queen's 
Drive," is delightful, and the view of the city and surrounding 
country from the elevated road very picturesque. There is a 
romantic little path here, on Salisbury Crags, mnning by the 


ruins of St. Anthony's Chapel, that Walter Scott used to 
walk when working out the plot of some of his novels, and 
the now broad road was then but a winding path up the 
crags ; the chapel, it will be remembered, figures in the Heart 
of Mid-Lothian. 

The elegant monument, nearly in front of the Royal Hotel, 
in the Piinces Street Gardens, erected in memory of Walter 
Scott, and known as the Scott Monument, is familiar to most 
American readera, from engravings. It is a splendid Gothic 
tower, and said to be "a recollection of the architectural 
beauties of Melrose Abbey." 

I cannot help reflecting here, in the native land of Scott, 
what the present generation owes to him for preserving the 
history, traditions, and romance of their country to undying 
fame; for investing them with new interest to the whole 
civilized world; for strengthening Scottish national traits, 
inculcating new pride to preserve the relics of their bravery 
and noble deeds among all classes, high and low. 

Thousands and thousands of the Scotch people are 'to-day 
indebted to the labors of this indefatigable, industrious, and 
wonderful man for their daily bread, I have been through 
enormous publishing houses here, or, I might more appropri- 
ately style them, vast book factories, where editions of his 
works, in every conceivable style, are issued. Year after year 
the never-tiring press throws off the same sheets, and yet the 
public are unsatisfied, and call for more ; new readers step 
yearly into the ranks vacated by those who went before them; 
and the rattle of the press readily beats to quarters, each sea- 
son, a fi*esh army of recruits. 

The poems, couplets, pictures, cai-ved relics, guide-books, 
museums, ruins, &c^ which his magic pen has made profitable 
property, are something marvellous. Fashions of brooches, 
jewelry, plaids, dress, and ornaments to-day owe their popu- 
larity to his pen, and what would be forgotten ruins, nameless 
huts, or uninviting wastes, it has made the Meccas of travel- 
lers from all nations. 

As an illustration of the latter fact, I met a man upon the 


battlements of Edinburgh Castle, from Cape Town, Africa, 
whose parents were Scotch, but who for years had been an 
exile, who in far distant countries had read Scott's Waverley 
novels and Scott's poems till the one wish of his hdart was to 
see old Scotland and those scenes with which the Wizard of 
the North had inflamed his imagination, and who now, at fifty 
years of age, looked upon his native land the first time since, 
when a boy of eight years, he 

"ran about the braes, 
And pu'd the gowans fine." 

He was now realizing the enjoyment he had so many years 
longed for, — looking upon the scenes he had heard his father 
tdll and his mother sing of, enjoying the reward of many 
years of patient toil, made lighter by the anticipation of visit- 
ing the home of his fathers ; and I was gratified to find that, 
unlike the experiences of many who are so long in exile, the 
Idealization of his hopes was " all his fancy painted" it, and he 
enjoyed all with a keen relish and enthusiastic fervor. 

It is a pleasant seven mile ride from Edinburgh out to Boss- 
lyn Castle, and the way to go is to take Hawthomden, as 
most tourists do, en route. This place — a delightftil, roman- 
tic old ivy-covered mansion — is perched upoQ a high precipice, 
eighty or one hundred feet above the River Esk (" where ford 
there was none"), in a most delightftilly romantic position, 
commanding a view of the little stream in its devious wind- 
ings in the deep, irregular gully below ; the gardens and walks, 
for a mile about and above the river, are charmingly rural and 
tastefully arranged. One can well imagine that Drummond, 
the Scottish poet and historian, the fiiend of Shakespeare, 
Ben Jonson, and Drayton, drew inspiration from this charm- 
ing retreat. Johnson is said to have walked all the way from 
London to make a visit here. 

Under the mansion we visited a series of curious caves, 
hollowed from the solid rock, and connected with each other 
by dark and narrow passages, very much like those sub- 
terranean passages told of in old-&shioned novels, as existing 


^xh old castiles. One of these rocky chambers had a little 

^fi" A0^ ^'Q^ti "tliroiigh its side, half concealed by ivy, but com- 

\j\vjtf^^ ^ "v^io^^v of the whole glen. Here, the guide told us, 

tiia^ <^ ^rnoe hid for a long time from his enemies ; and I 

^^p^ ^0p^^^^ t'O liear that this was the scene of the celebrated 

^ ^ ^^ecdoto of the story-books. We got no such informa- 

•^jc^ ^4> ^W'ere six own a long, two-handed sword, however, said 

tiot^^ Taelongod to the Scottish king, which I took pleasure 

to^^"^-<^S ^ l>randish above my head, to the infinite disgust 

•^ gv^^^^^ide, Tv'ho informed me, after I had laid down this for- 

oi"^^ Z% weapon, that visitors were not allowed to handle it. 

^\^«^^ ^y lao as ivell to state that the authenticity of this 

\^ ^^ ^tii also the correctness of the story that Bruce ever 

ft^ot<>i ^^ are questioned. One of the chambera has regular 

\A^ "li^^ l>ook-shelves, cut in the rock, and this is styled 

^\xev^ ,^ -jjVbrax^- Passing out into the grounds of the house, 

^^^ ^^^ded, by a pretty rustic pathway, to the valley, and 

^^ \>y ^^ ^^^® ^^ ^® "^^^ River, which babbled over its 

"^x -y^ed ^^ ^^^ ^^®** ^ *^^ ^sk is the same one that 

^ nS liOchinvar swam, he did not accomplish anything to 

ast of; ^or during a walk of over two miles at its side, I 

^ no part over twenty feet wide, and no very dangerous 

depth or current. 

Our romantic walk brought us to the ruins of Kosslyn 
Castle, but little of which remains, except a triple tier of 
vaults and some masses of masonry, its position being on a 
gort of peninsular rock, overhanging the picturesque glen of 
the Esk we had just traversed ; and the massive stone bridge 
which spans the ravine forms the only connection between 
the opposite bank and the castle. 

Rosslyn Chapel, or Roslin, — for they spell it both ways here, 
. — was founded by William, the third earl of Orkney, in 1446, 
who had conferred on him by James II. the office of Grand Mas- 
ter of the Scottish Freemasons, which continued hereditary in 
the family of his descendants till 1736, when it w^as resigned 
into the hands of the Scottish Lodges. The chapel is one 
of the most elaborately decorated specimens of architecture 



in the kingdom, and, besides its celebrity in history, and 
the interest that Scott has invested it with, is a building of 
peculiar interest to members of the fraternity of Freemasons. 
It is impossible to designate the architecture by any familiar 
term; it is distinguished, however, by its pointed Gothic 
arches and a profusion of ornament, the interior being a 
wonder, of decoration in stone carving, particularly the pillars, 
which are pointed out to the visitor as its chief wonders, and 
some of which bear the mark master mason's "mark.'' 

The interior of the chapel is divided into a centre and two 
side aisles, and the two rows of clustered pillars which sup- 
port the roof are only eight feet in height. The capitals of 
these pillara are decorated with the most beautifully chis- 
elled foliage, running vines, and ornaments, and on the friezes 
masonic brethren are represented feeding the hungry, clothing 
the naked, visiting the sick, &c. ; there are also a number of 
allegorical figures, representing the seven deadly sins. 

But the marvel of the whole is the Apprentices' Pillar, 
which, according to the familiar legend, was left unfinished by 
the master mason, while he went to Rome to study designs 
to enable him to perfect it in a suitable manner. During his 
absence, an "entered apprentice," fired with ambition, com- 
pleted it after designs of his own, which so enraged the mas- 
ter on his return, that, in a fit of rage, he killed him with a 
blow on the head with a setting-maul. The pillar is a clus- 
tered column, surrounded by an exquisitely-wrought wreath 
of flowers, running from base to capital, the very poetry of 
carving. Above this pillar is the following inscription : — 

ijrorte C0t btnum, forttor est xtx, toximtsi stunt tnultetes ; 
0upcr omnia bincii betttass. 

Which is, "Wine is strong, the king is stronger, women are 
strongest ; above all things, truth conquers." 

We stood upon the ponderous slab that was the door to 
the vault beneath, in which slimiber the barons of Roslin, all 
of whom, till the time of James VI., were buried uncoflined, 


but in complete armor — helm, corselet, and gauntlets. Scott's 
familiar lines came to mind, — 

** Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffioed tie,* 
Each baron, for a sable shroud, 
Sheathed in his iron panoply." 

It seems, Ixowever, that some of the descendants of the 
"barons" had a more modem covering than their "iron 
panoply ; " for, about two years ago, upon the death of an 
old earl, it was decided to bury him in this vault ; and it was 
accordingly opened, when two huge coffins were found at the 
very entrance, completely blocking it up, and which would 
have broken in pieces in the attempt to move them. The 
present earl, therefore, ordered the workmen to close the old 
vault, and his father's remains were interred in a new one in 
the chancel, built about eighty years ago, where the inscrip* 
tioD above his remains tells us that " James Alexander, third 
Earl, died 16th June, 1866." 

Bidding adieu to this exquisite little building, we will take 
a glance at another, or rather the ruins of another, that owes 
much of its fame also to the interest with which Walter 
Scott has invested it — one which he loved to visit, and much 
of whose beautiful architectural ornamentation he caused to 
be copied into his own Abbotsford. I refer to Melrose Ab- 
bey; and, as no tomist ever thinks of leaving Scotland with- 
out seeing it, a sketch of our visit may possibly be but a new 
version of an oft-told story ; but now that I have seen it, 
I am never tired of thinking and reading of its wondrous 

Melrose is thirty-five miles fi'om Edinburgh by rail ; and on 
arrival at the station, we were at once pounced upon by a 
number of drivers of vehicles in waiting, who were desirous 
of securing us, or of having us secure them, for a drive to 
Melrose Abbey, Abbotsford, or Dryburg Abbey, and if we 
had not been cautioned, we should have been warned by a 
card which was thrust into my hand, and which I give for the 
benefit of other tourists who may go that way, infoiming 



theni that the "Abbey Hotel," herein mentioned, is less than 
five minutes' walk from the little railroad station. 

"Thb*Abbbt Hotel, Abbet Gate, Melrose. 

" This hotel is situated upon the abbey grounds, and at the entrance 
to the * far-famed ruins.' Parties coming to the hotel, therefore, are 
cautioned against being imposed upon by cab-drivers at the railroad sta- 
tion and elsewhere, as this is the only house which commands the views 
of Melrose Abbey. 

'' An extensive addition having been lately built to this establishment, 
consisting of suites of sitting and bed-rooms, it is now the largest and 
most handsome hotel in Melrose. 

** One-horse carriage to Abbotsford and back . . . . . . 6s. 6d. 

*' " to Dryburg and back ....... 7s. 6d. 

** These charges include everything/' 

Upon the reverse we were treated to a pictorial representa- 
tion of this " most handsome hotel," an impretending, two- 
story mansion, which, we were informed, was kept by Archi- 
bald Hamilton, who also kept various "horses, gigs, and 
phaetons for hire ; wines and foreign and British spirits for 
sale." A rush of twenty visitors would have oveiTun the 
" establishment," to which " an extensive addition " had been 
made. The Abbey Hotel was a comfortable English inn, and 
we found, on arriving at it, that it almost joined on to the very 
abbey itself; while another little building, the dwelling of the 
widow and two daughters who showed the ruins, as we found, 
for a consideration, was close by — too close, it seemed to us, 
to this glorious old structure, which, even in its ruins, is an ob- 
ject of universal admiration, its magnificence and gracefulness 
entitling it to be ranked as one of the most perfect works of 
the best age of this description of ecclesiastical architecture.' 

Melrose was built in 1146, destroyed by the English in 
1322, and rebuilt with two thousand pounds sterling, given by 
Robert Bruce, in 1326 — a sum of money equal to about fifty 
thousand pounds at the present time. So much for its histo 
ry. But let us pay the sexton's pretty daughter her shilling, 
for here she is with the key that unlocks the modem iron-rail 
ing gate that excludes strangers who do not pay for the privi 


lege ; and following her a few steps, we are in the midst of 
the grand and glorious ruins of the old abbey that we are 
familiar with in song and story, and from the many counter- 
feit presentments that we have, time and again, gazed upon in 
luxurious illustrated books, or upon the walls of art galleries 
at home. 

** The darkened roof rose high aloof, 
On pillars lofty, light, and small ; 
The key-stone that locked each rihbed aisle 
Was a fleur-de-lis, or a quatre-feuille. 
The corbels were carved grotesque and grim, 
And the pillars with clustered shafts so trim, 
With base and with capital flourished around, 
Seemed bundles of lances which garlands had bound.*' 

As we came into the midst of this glorious old structure, 
we actually stood silent for some time, so filled were we with 
admiration at its wondrous beauty. To be sure, the blue arch 
of the heavens is now its only roo^ and from the shattered 
walls rooks or jackdaws fly noisily overhead; but, then, the 
majestic sweep of the great Gothic arches, that vista of beau- 
ty, a great Gothic aisle still standing, fifty feet long, and sixty 
feet from floor to key-stone, the superb columns, and the innu- 
merable elegant carvings on every side, the graves of monarch, 
knight, and wizard, marked with their quaint, antique inscrip- 
tions at your feet, and 

" The cloister galleries small, 
Which at mid height thread the chancel wall," 

all form a scene of most charming and beautiful effects. 

And we stood there, with the blue sky looking in through 
the shattered arches, the noisy rooks flying hither and thither 
on their morning calls, the turf, soft, green, and springy, 
sprinkled here and there with wild flowers, in the centre of 
the ruin, while festoons of ivy waved in the breeze, like tapes- 
try hung about the shattered windows and crumbling columns. 

Here was the place, and the day was one of those quiet, 
dreamy spring days, on which tourists could sit 

" Them down on a marble stone," 


and read bold Deloraine's visit to the wizard's grave, as de- 
scribed by Scott in the Lay of the Last Minstrel. And here 
is , his grave, an nnpoetical-looking place enough now, and 
perhaps less wonderfol since Branksome's knight wrenched it 
open, and took away the magic volume from Michael Scott's 
dead clasp. Here is the spot where Robert Bruce's heart was 
buried ; here the grave of the Earl of Douglas, ^ the dark 
Ejiight of Liddesdale," and of Douglass, the hero of Chevy 
Chase ; while qusdnt and Latin inscriptions on the walls and 
the time-worn slabs record the resting-place of once proud, 
but now extinct families and forgotten heroes, aU now one 
common dust. 

We must not forget the great windows of the abbey, more 
especially the bast window. I write it in large letters, for 
it is an architectural poem, and it will live in my memory as a 
joy forever, it is such a thing of beauty. The Ughtness of its 
proportions and beauty of its tracery at once impress the be- 
holder ; and all around the sides and above it are quaint and 
wonderfully-executed sculptures in the stone-work — statues, 
chain and crown; figures on carved pedestals, beneath cano- 
pies of wrought stone, while wreaths and sculptured flowers 
are artistically wrought in various directions. 

The exterior of the abbey presents remarkable symmetry, 
and a profusion of embeUishment in sculptured stone-work, 
and is buUt in the usual form of such structures — a Latin 
cross. The nave, in its present ruined condition, is two hun- 
dred and fifty-eight feet long, by seventy-nine in breadth. The 
transept is one hundred and thirty feet long, and forty-four in 
breadth, which will give some idea of the size of these splen- 
did old edifices of the Romish church. The ornamental carv- 
ing, with which the whole edifice is so profusely decorated, 
would afibrd study for a month, and consists, besides delicately- 
chiselled flowers and plants, of grotesque and curious figured 
of monks, saints, nuns, demons, &c. 

Among other sculptures is that of a man seated cross* 
legged, upholding a pedestal on his shoulders, his features 
expressing pain at the heavy weight; a group of musicians 


playing on various instruments and performing different 
antics; a man with his head in his hand; monks with ro- 
saries, cooks with knife and ladle, grinning heads, and women 
with &ces veiled and busts displayed; effigies of the apostles, 
rosettes, ribbed work, bouquets of flowers, scallop shells, oak 
leaves, acorns, lilies and plants ; in fact, the faithfulness with 
which well-known plants have been represented by the 
sculptor has long been the subject of comment of the his- 
torian and antiquarian ; and ^in this abbey," says an historian, 
"there are the finest lessons and the greatest variety of 
Gothic ornaments that the island affords, take all the reli- 
gious structures together." 

What must it have been when nave, and transept, and aisle 
were perfect, when the great windows were perfect glories of 
colored glass, the carvings fresh from the sculptor's chisel, 
and the chant of a hundred monks floated through the lofty 
arches I In those times when these holy men gave their hearts 
and hands to the extending and embellishing of those tem- 
ples erected to the great Architect of the Universe, by that 
wonderful order of men, the Freemasons, and did it with an 
enthusiasm and taste which proved that they deemed a love 
of the beautiful not incompatible with the love of religion ! 
It was then that religious fervor expressed itself in grand 
creations, and all the arts of the age were controlled and 
made to contribute to the one^ great art of the age. Architec- 
ture, as evinced in these wondrous works of their hands that 
they have left behind — models of artistic skill and beauty un- 
excelled as yet by those who have come after them. 

Melrose Abbey is a place that I would have enjoyed spend- 
ing a week at instead of a single day, which was all too short 
for proper study and examination of the curious specimens 
of the sculptors' and builders' arts one encounters in every 
part of the ruins ; but we must up and away. 

A carriage to Abbotsford and back was chartered, and we 
were soon rattling over the pleasant road on our way to the 
home of Sir Walter Scott, about three miles distant. It is 
in some respects a curious structure, half country-seat, half 


castle, " a romance of stone and lime," as its owner used to 
call it. We did not catch sight of its castellated turrets, till, 
driving down a slight declivity from the main road, we were 
at the very gates ; entering these, a beautiful walk of a htm- 
drod and fifty feet, along one aisle of the court-yard, and com- 
manding a fine view of a portion of the grounds, the garden 
front, led us to the house itself. 

At difiTereut points about the grounds and house are vari- 
ous stone antiquities, and curiosities gathered from old build* 
ings, which one must have a guide-book to explain. Melrose 
Abbey and the old city of Edinburgh appear to have been 
laid under contribution for these mementos — the door of 
the old Xollbooth fr-om the latter, and a stone fountain, upon 
which stood the old cross of Edinbm-gh, being conspicuous 
objects. Abbotsford is a lovely place, and seems to be situ- 
ated in a sort of depression among the hills, and by them, in 
some degree, sheltered from any sweeping winds. Besides 
being of interest as the residence of Scott, it is a perfect 
museum of curiosities and relics identified with Scottish 

The entrance hall is richly panelled in oak taken fix>m the 
palace of Dunfermline, and the roof with the same. All along 
the cornice of the roof of this hall are the coats of arms of 
the different clans of the Border, painted in colors, on small 
armorial shields, an inscription stating, — 

" 5Cfjej$e it ii)z coat arm0irc0 of i^t clannss anti rfjirf men of 
name, Infja fceeptt tj^e marcj^gss of Scotlanti in tfje auUi tgme for 
tfje S&gnge. ^tefoe men Inere tfjes m tfjetr tiefence. (Sots tfjem 

Here are also three or four complete suits of tilting armor, 
set up and looking as though still occupied by the stem war- 
riors who once owned them : one gi*asps a huge two-handed 
sword, captured at the battle of Bosworth Field; another a 
broad claymore taken from the dead grasp of a Highlander, 
who fell with 

« His back to the field and his feet to the foe," 


on the disastrous field of Culloden; the breastplates and 
trappings of Vwo of Napoleon's celebrated French cuirassiers, 
whose resistless charge trampled down whole battalions, but 
who were swept firom their saddles by hundreds, as these two 
were by the leaden hail of the English infantry squares at 
Waterloo. Here also were stout old lochaber axes, English 
steel maces, battle-axes, and other weapons, many with his- 
tories, and fi-om the bloody fields whose hon*ora are a promi- 
nent feature on the pages of histoiy. 

But the most interesting rooms of all, to me, were the study 
and library of Sir Walter; and among the most interesting 
relics were the plain, unpretending suit of clothes last worn 
by him, his walking-sticks, his shoes, and his pipes ; and in 
his study the writing-table at which he wrote, and the great 
leather-covered chair in wliich he sat. The library is quite a 
large apartment, some fifty or sixty feet in length, handsome- 
ly decorated, and with its deep, broad windows looking out 
upon the River Tweed. It is completely lined with books 
fi*om floor to ceiling — in all, some twenty thousand. 

Here are also many curiosities ; among others, the silver 
urn presented by Lord Byron, which rests on a stand of 
porphyry; Marie Antoinette's clock; very curious and richly 
carved ebony arm-chairs, presented by George IV. ; a glass 
case contained Rob Roy McGregor's purse, a piece of Robert 
Brace's coffin, a purse wrought by Joanna Baillie, a small 
case by Miss Martineau, two gold bees, each as big as a hen's 
egg^ taken fi-om Napoleon's caniage, a portfolio that once 
belonged to Napoleon, miniature portrait of Piince Charlie, 
(" Wha'il be King but Charlie ? "), snuff-box of George IV., the 
seal of Mary, Queen of Scots, a little box fi*om Miss Edge- 
worth, and other relics and mementos. 

In the armory, among other curiosities, we saw the musket 
of that redoubtable outlaw Rob Roy, Claverhouse's pistol, a 
sword that was given to the Marquis of Montrose by Charles 
I., James VI.'s hunting flask, pair of pistols found in Napo- 
leon's carriage at the battle of Waterloo, the armor of one of 
the old Scottish kings. General Monk's pistols, keys of the old 
Tollbooth, &c. 


Among the more stiiking pictm-es upon the walls of tlie 
different rooms were the portrait of the head of Maiy, Queen 
of Scots, upon a charger, said to have been taken a few hours 
after her execution, the sad, pale features of which haunted 
my imagination for many an hour afterwards. Then there 
were the stem, heavily-moulded features of Cromwell, Charles 
XIL, the lion of Sweden, and Claverhouse, Charles II., and a 
long-bearded old ancestor of Sir Walter's, who allowed his 
beard to grow after the execution of Charles I. ; and a col- 
lection of original etchings by Turner and other artists, the 
designs for the "Provincial Antiquities of Scotland." But 
from all these we sauntered back reverentially to the little 
study, with its deep arm-chair, and its table and books of ref- 
erence, and its subdued light fi-om the single window; for 
here was the great author's work-room. A garrulous guide 
and thi-ee or four curious friends allow a dreamer, however, 
no time for thought and reflection while there is sight-seeing 
to be done ; so we were escorted over a portion of the prettily 
laid-out grounds, and then took our leave, and our carriage, 
and soon left Abbotsford behind us. 

Edinbm-gh, Melrose, and Abbotsford seen, we must next 
have a look a Stirling Castle. So, after a ride of thiity-six 
miles from Edinburgh, we are eating the well-cooked mutton 
chops that they serve at the Golden Lion, in Stirling, and, 
after being duly fortified with good cheer, wend our way up 
through the steep streets to the castle on its rocky perch. 
This strong old castle, standing directly upon the brow of a 
precipitous rock, overlooks one of the most extended and 
beautiful landscapes in the kingdom — the beautiful vale of 
Menteith, the Highland mountains in the distance, Ben Lo- 
mond, Benvenue, Ben Lodi, and several other " Bens ; " the 
River Forth, winding its devious course through the fertile 
valley, the brown road, far below at our feet, running along to 
the faintly-marked ruins of Cambuskenneth Abbey, and the 
little villages and arched bridges, form a chaiming view. 

The eye here takes in also, in this magnificent prospect, no 
less than twelve of Scotland's battle-fields, including one of 


"Wallace's fierce contests, and Bannockbum, where Bruce 
gained the independence of Scotland in 1314. 

James 11. and James V. were bom in Stirling; and I 
looked at the little narrow road which goes down behind the 
castle with some interest, when I was told it furnished King 
James V. the fictitious name, " Ballangeich," he was in the 
habit of assuming when he went among his subjects in dis- 
guise. Theatre-goers will remember the play of the " Gude 
Man of Ballangeich," and the " King of the Commons,'' and 
that he was the king who was hero in those plays, and also 
the "James Fit^ames" of Scott's Lady of the Lake. And, 
speaking of the Lady of the Lake, the beautiful view from 
the battlements of Stirling Castle, three hundred feet abov« 
the valley, recalled Rodeiic Dhu's reply to James : — 

** Saxon, from yonder mountain high, 
I marked thee send delighted eye 
Far to the south and east, where lay, 
Extended in succession gay, 
Deep waving fields and pastures green, 
"With gentle slopes and groves between ; 
Those fertile fields, that softened vale. 
Were once the birthright of the Gael." 

The outer gates of the castle are said to have been built 
by the old Romans, and were strong enough for ancient bat- 
teries, but not for modem artillery. The marks of the can- 
non shot fired by General Monk when he attacked the 
castle, directing the whole fire of his artillery at one point 
till he battered down a portion of the wall, and the breach 
through which William Wallace entered, are points of inter- 
est. So was the dark, secure, stone cell into which wo 
peeped, where Rob Roy is said to have been confined. 
The outer works of the castle were erected in Queen Anne's 
time, and that known as the Palace, built by James V. The 
little room Imown as the Douglass Room, with its adjoining 
closet, is one of the "lions" of the castle, for it was here that 
the Earl of Douglass — the "Black Douglass" — met King 
James II. under promise of safe conduct ; and after a fierce 


discussion, in which the king vainly tried to induce him to 
abandon a compact he had made with other chiefs, he stabbed 
the earl, in a fit of passion. The nobles attendant on the 
king, concealed in the little antechamber, rushed in and com- 
pleted the murder, throwing the body from the window — 
which is pointed out to us — into the garden beneath. 

Not far from the castle is the " Lady's Rock," a small hill 
from which the ladies of the Scottish court, and other favored 
ones, could look down upon the tournament field, a hundred 
feet below. And as we sat there, and looked upon the form 
of the lists, still visible upon the turf below, marked by the 
green ridges, it was easy to ima^e what an animated and 
beautiful scene it must have presented when filled with 
knights and squires, steeds and men; for it was here that 
James was forced to award Douglass the prize, as the victor 
in the feats of strength at the Scottish sports. 

<' The gray-haired sires, who know the past, 
To strangers point the Douglass cast, 
And moralize on the decay 
Of Scottish strength in modern day." 

This beautifrd vale has witnessed many a joust and tourna- 
ment. This vale at our feet, this "Lady's Rock," and the 
lady's seat, which makes for us a sort of rocky throne, as we 
sit here and muse on Scotland's history and Scotland's poet, 
are the very ones he speaks of as 

'* The vale with loud applauses rang, 
The Lady's Kock sent back the clang." 

Near the Lady's Rock is a modem cemetery, beautifully 
laid out, and containing statues of Knox and Henderson, and 
other handsome monuments. The old churchyard of Gray- 
friars contains many curious monuments, and here, on an old 
Bun-dial, I found this inscription: — 

" I mark time ; dost thou ? 
I am a shadow ; so art thou." 


It was in Grayfiiars that James VI. was crowned, and 
Knox preached the coronation seimon. 

No tourist will think of leaving Stirling without taldng a 
ride to the field of Bannockburn, a short distance. The scene 
of a battle which occurred more than five hundred and fifty 
years ago cannot be expected to preserve many features of 
its former character; the only one which is of particular in- 
terest is the "Bore Stone," a firagment of rock with a small 
cavity, in which the Scottish standard is said to have been 
raised ; it is clamped all over with iron bars, to prevent relio- 
huntera from carrying what remains of it away. 

The story of the battle is one of the most familiar ones in 
Scottish history to both young and old readei-s, and your 
guide will indicate to you points where the Scotch and Eng- 
lish forces were disposed, where the • concealed pits were 
placed into which plunged so many of the Englbh cavalry, 
the point where Bruce stood to watch the battle, nay, the 
very place where 

*< Tho monarch rode along the van, 
The foe's approaching force to scan," 

when Sir Henry Boune, thinking, as the Binice was mounted 
on a slight palfrey, &,r in advance of his own line, to ride him 
down with his heavy war horse, set his lance in rest, and dashed 
out from the English lines with that intent. 

*' He spurred his steed, he couched his lance, 
And darted on the Bruce at once,'* 

thinking to distinguish himself and have his name in history. 
Ho did so, but not in the manner, probably, he had anticipat- 
ed; for 

" While on the king, like flash of flame, 
Spurred to full speed, the war horse came I 
But swerving from the knight's career. 
Just as they met, Bruce shunned the spear. 

• . . • • 

High in his stirrups stood the king, 
And gave his battle-axe the swing; 


Such strength upon the hlow was pat, 
The helmet cracked like hazel-nut ; " 

and so began the battle of Bannockbum, which ended in the 
defeat of one hundred thousand English by thirty thousand 
Scots, raising Bruce from a hunted rebel to the rank of an 
independent sovereign. It was the most important battle 
the Scots ever won, and the most severe defeat the English 
ever experienced in Scotland. 

Another pleasant little excursion was a walk to Cambus- 
kenneth Abbey, crossing the River Forth by an old ferry, 
where we had to hail the ferry-man from the other side. We 
did not have to say, — 

" Boatman, do not tarry ! 
And I'll give thee a silver pound 
To row us o'er the ferry," — 

for the old fellow came over, rowed three of us across, and 
demanded three half -pence for the service; so we were liberal, 
and gave him double fare. The only part of the abbey re- 
maining is a Gothic tower, and a few remnants of walls, and 
the foundation lines of nave and transept, which are visible. 
A few years ago, when some excavations were being made 
here, the site of the high altar was found, and beneath it the 
supposed coffin and skeleton of James III. They were re- 
interred, and a handsome square sarcophagus marks the spot, 
beaiing an inscription, which tells the visitor that Queen 
Victoria erected it in 1861, in memory of hei ancestors. 

While at Stirling we had the opportimity of seeing a real 
Highland regiment, who were quartered there, in their pic- 
turesque, unmilitary dress, — kilt, bare legs, plaid stockings 
crown of feathers, &c., — a most uncomfortable and inconven 
lent dress for service in the field, I should imagine. I also 
had an opportunity of hearing native Scotch songs, sung by 
a Scotch minstrel, as I never heard them sung befoi*e. It 
was a still, quiet moonlight night, in one of the streets, and 
the wandering minstrel accompanied himself on a vIqUu. I 
never heard ballad-singing better or more effectively ren- 



six^ger's voice was a pure, flexible tenor, and as 

^^ - Xo^^r gently, sweet AAon," there was hardly a 

"^ ^^ ^ _ ^^- XIX the crowd that stood about him; but when 

Ve "^ ^ ^1 X^^rtlxetic Scotch ballad, in which the tear was in 

^ ^^ *^^ Tor-ought it into the eye of more than one of his 

^. oV^^ ^**^^ iihe hearty manner in which many a poor, 

"^ W^ ^^ ^^"^ orowded up to give him a ha'penny at the 

Vggji\ iV^^^ tiow deeply they were touched, and how grate- 

^o%"&-»^^ C^^ tiOTvards one who could interpret their national 

^^o«^^ ^lirling we will make a detour through that charm- 
^^^ etv©^*^^ Scotland which Scott so frequently mentions 
^^ . X»aAy of the Lake, especially in the ride of Fit&James 



o^ X the stag, which at eve had " dnink his fill," 
** Where danced the moon on Monan's rill." 

But first an imromantic railroad ride of sixteen miles must 

l>e taken; and not unromantic, either, for there are many 

pleasant spots and points of historic interest on the route, — 

the Bridge of Allan, a pleasant village, which is a popular 

watering-place not far fi*om Stirling, being one; — through 


" The bannered towers of Donne," 

and on by the rippling stream of the River Fortb- 
<'They bathe their coursers* sweltering sides. 

' Dark Fortli, within thy sluggish tides." 

And we might go on with half the poem in the same manner, 
such is the charm which Scott's poetry has lent to this part 
of the country. 

At the rugged-looking little stone-built town of Callander 
we left the train, and climbed into a sort of open wagon stage- 
coach, similar to those sometimes used at the White Moun- 
tains, Fl^ch held sixteen of us, and had a spanking team 
driven by an expert English "whip;'' and we were whirled 
away, for a ride of twenty miles or more, through the lake 


country and "the Trossachs" to Loch Katrine. The word 
" trossachs," I was told by a communicative Scotchman, signi- 
fied "bristles," and the name was suggested by the species 
of coarse furze which aboimds in the passes of this rough and 
hilly country. The wild mountain scenery reminded me often 
of our own White Mountains ; and the reaches of view, though 
giving pretty landscape scenes, showed a country rather sterile 
for the husbandman — better to shoot over than plough over. 
At last we reached a little sort of hollow in the hills, where 
Lake Vennachar narrows down to the River Teith, and came 
to where the stream swept round a little grassy point of land; 
and here our coach stopped a moment for us to look, — 

" For this is Coilantogle Ford," - 

which, it will be recollected, was 

" For past Clan Alpine's outmost guard," 

and the scene of the combat between FitzJames and Roderic 

Dhu. "And there," said an old Scotchman, pointing to the 

little grassy peninsula, " is the very place where the fight took 

place " — a borrowed stretch of the imagination, inasmuch as 

the poet himself imagined the combat. 

But we whirled away past Vennachar, mounted a little 

eminence, from whence we had a grand panoramic view 

of hiUs, lake, road, and river, with Benvenue rising in the 

background ; and as we rattled down the hill the road swept 

round with a curve near to a little village that I recognized 

at once from the pictures in illustrated editions of Scott's 

poems — Duncraggan's huts, one of the points at which the 

bearer of the fiery cross paused on his journey to raise the 


** Speed, Malise, speed I tbe lake is past, 

Duncraggan's huts appear at last." 

And passing this, we soon rolled over a little single-arched 
bridge — the bridge of Turk. 

"And when the Brigg of Turk was won, 
The headmost horseman rode alone." 


Oil over the Bi^g of Turk, past Loch Achray, and we 
come to the Trossachs Hotel, commanding a good view of the 
black-looking " loch," and the rocky peak of Ben A'an. Be- 
tween this point and Loch Katrine, a mile, are the " Tros- 
sachs." All the drives and scenery in the immediate vicinity 
are delightful ; and the hotel, which is a fine castellated build- 
ing, must be a most pleasant place for summer resort. 

Embarking upon a little steamer named Rob Roy, on Loch 
Katrine, we sail close by Ellen's Isle, and sweep out into the 
middle of the lake — a lovely sheet of water, and reminding 
the American tourist of Lake George. A delightftil sail on 
this lake carried us to Stronachlachar. There we disembark, 
and take carnage again through the valley to Loch Lomond, 
passing on the road the hut in which Helen McGregor, Rob 
Roy's wife, was bom, and also a fort built to check the incur- 
sions of the McGregors, and at one time commanded by Gen- 
eral Wolfe — the same who afterwards fell at the capture of 
Quebec. Then, descending to Inversnaid, we came to Loch 
Lomond, with the dark mountains looking down upon its 

That there is some wind among these Scotch hills we had 
ample opportunity of ascertaining; for so furiously did the 
gusts pour down upon the lake, that they lashed it into foam- 
capped waves, and sent the sheets of spray so liberally over 
the boat as to make us glad to contemplate this pride of the 
Scottish lakes, its hills, and thirsty islands fi-om the cabin 
windows. Disembarking once more at Balloch, situated at 
the southern extremity of the lak^, the train was in waiting 
which took us to Glasgow, passing Dumbarton on our route, 
and giving us a fine view of Dumbarton Castle, situated upon 
the two high peaks of Dumbarton Rock, five hundred and 
sixty feet high, and noted as being the place of confinement 
of William Wallace. The highest peak of the rock is called 
Wallace's Seat, from this circumstance. 



Glasgow Cathedral, situated on the highest ground in . 
the metropolis of Scotland, looks over the spires, domes, and 
crowded masonry of a city of half a million inhabitants. A 
view from its tower, over two hmidred feet in height, takes in 
the valley of the River Clyde, with woods, and hedges, and 
pleasant meadows, and the river itself rolling on its way to- 
wards the ocean. The Renfrewshire Hills, the neighboring 
town of Paisley, Dumbarton Rock, and* the Argyleshire 
Mountains, and a ruin or two, with the waving ivy, green 
upon the shattered walls, complete the distant picture ; while 
spread beneath, at our very feet, is the busy city itself, with 
its factories, its furnaces, and great masses of high-storied 
houses, and stretching along by the water side the great quay 
wall of fifteen thousand feet in length, with vessels ranged 
two or three abreast before it. 

This fine old cathedral is an elegant Gothic structure, and 
was built in 1136. It is remarkable from being one of the 
few churches in Scotland that have been preserved in a com- 
paratively perfect state, and its annals for the past seven hun- 
dred years have been well preserved and authenticated ; but 
with these I must have but little to do, for once immersed in 
the curious records of these old ecclesiastical edifices, so cele- 
brated in histoiy, and so wondrous in architectural beauty, 
and we shall get on all too slowly among the sights and 
scenes in foreign lands. 

The grand entrance to the Glasgow Cathedral is at the great 
doorway at one end of the nave, and we enter a huge church, 
three hundred and nineteen feet long by about sixty wide, 
divided by a splendid screen, or rood loft;, as it is called, sepa- 
rating the nave from the choir, that most sacred part of the 
Roman Catholic edifices, where the principal jdtars were 


erected, and high mass was perfovmect. The cai-ving and 
ancient decoration here are in a fine ticate of preservation, and 
the majestic columns which supporv the main arches, with 
their beantiihlly-cat foliagcd capitals of various designs, are 
an architectural triumph. 

The crypts beneath this cathedral are in an excellent state 
of preservation, and at one time were used for purposes of 
worship. In Catholic times these old crypts were used for 
the purposes of sepulture for prelates and high dignitaries 
of the church ; but nearly all traces of the monuments of 
these worthies were swept away in the blind fuiy which char- 
acterized the Reformation in its destruction of **' monuments 
of idolatry;** and so zealous, or, we may now say, fanatical, 
were the Reformers, that they swept to swift destniction 
some of the finest architectural sti-uctures in the land, and 
monuments erected to men who had been of benefit to their 
race and generation, in one general rain. The tourist, as he 
notes the mutilation of the finest works of architectural skill, 
and the almost total destruction of exquisite sculpture and 
historical monuments^which he constantly encounters in these 
ecclesiastical buildings, finds himself giving utterance to ex- 
pressions anything but flattering to the perpetrators of this 

An effigy of a bishop, with head strack off and otherwise 
mutilated, is now about all of note that remains of the monu- 
ments here in the crypt. It is supposed to be the effigy of 
Jocline, the founder of this part of the cathedral, which is 
about one hundred and thirty feet in length, and sixty-five 
wide, with five rows of columns of every possible form, from 
simple shaft to those of elaborate design, supporting the 
structure above. The crypts are, it is said, the finest in the 
kingdom. But the great wonder of Glasgow Cathedral is its 
stained-glass windows, which are marvels of modern work, for 
they were commenced in 1859, and completed in 1864, and 
are some of the finest specimens of painted-glass work that 
the Royal Establishment of Glass Painting, in Munich, haft 
ever produced. 



These windows are over eighty in number ; but foity-four 
of them are great windows, twenty-five or thirty feet high, 
and each one ^ving a Bible stoiy in pictures. The subjects 
begin with the Expulsion from Paradise, and continue on in 
regular order of Bible chronology. Besides these are coats of 
arms of the diflferent donors of windows, in a circle of colored 
glass at the base, as each was given by some noted person or 
family, and serves as a memjBnto of relatives and friends who 
;ire inteiTcd in the cathedral or its necropolis. Besides the 
leading events of biblical history, from the Old Testament 
portrayed, such as Noah's Sacrifice, Abraham oflfering Isaac, 
the Offer of Marriage to Rebekah, the Blessing of Jacob, 
the Finding of Moses, <fcc., there are figures of the apostles, 
the prophets, illustrations of the parables of our Saviour, and 
other subjects from the Holy Scriptures, all beautifully exe- 
cuted after designs by eminent artists. 

But space wiU not permit ftirther description of this mag- 
nificent building. Scott says this is " the only metropolitan 
chm'ch, except the Cathedral Kirkwall, in the Orkneys, that 
remained iminjured at the Reformatioi^" It owes its preser- 
vation from destruction somewhat to the fact that James Ra- 
bat, who was Dean of Guild when its demolition was clamored 
for, was a good Mason, and saved this work of the masters' 
art by suflfering the "idolatrous statues " of saints to be de- 
stroyed on condition of safety to the building. 
. At the Tear of the cathedral rises the Necropolis, a bold, 
semicircular eminence, some three hundred feet in height, and 
formed in regular terraces, which are divided into walks, and 
crowded with elegant and costly modem monuments; too 
crowded, in fact, and reminding one more of a sculpture gal- 
lerjr than a cemetery. Among the most conspicuous of these 
monuments was a fine Corinthian shaft and statue to John 
Knox, and on the shaft was inscribed, — • 

''When laid in the ground, the regent said, 'There lieth he who 
never feared the face of man, who was often threatened with dag and 
dagger, yet hath ended his days in peace and honor.' " 

THJS actob's epitaph. 83 

A magnificent square sarcophagas, erected to James Shori- 
dan Knowles, bore his name. 

" Died November, 1862." 

A fine monument to John Dick, Professor of Theology and 
Minister of Grayfiiars Church, Edinburgh ; another tc Wil- 
liam McGarvin, author of the "Protestant." One erected to a 
favorite Scotch comedian attracted my attention from the ap- 
propriateness of its design and epitaph. The designs were 
elegantly-cut figures of Comedy and Tragedy, in marble, a me- 
dallion head in bass-relief, probably a likeness of the deceased, 
and the mask, bowl, and other well-known emblems of the 
histrionic art. The epitaph was as follows : — 

" Fallen is the curtain ; the last scene is o'er, 
The favorite actor treads life's stage no more. 
Oft lavish plaudits from the crowd he drew. 
And laughing eyes confessed his humor true. 
Here fond affection rears this sculptured stone, 
For virtues not enacted, but his own — 
A constancy unshaken unto death, 
A truth unswerving, and a Christian's faith. 
Who knew him best have cause to mourn him most; 
O, weep the man more than the actor lost. 
Unnumbered parts he played, yet to the end 
His best were those of husband, father, friend.'* 

The deceased's name was John Henry Alexander, who died 
December 15, 1851. 

From Glasgow we took rail to Ayr, on a pilgrimage to 
Bums's birthplace, and, at five o'clock of a pleasant afternoon, 
arrived at that little Scotch town, and as we rode through 
the streets, passed by the very tavern where " Tam O'Shan- 
ter " held his revel with " Souter Johnny" — a clean little squat 
stone house, indicated by a big sign-board, on which is a pic- 
torial representation of Tam and his crony sitting together, 
and enjoying a "wee drapit" of something from handled 
mugs, which they are holding out to each other, and, judging 
fix)m the size of the mugs, not a "wee drapit " either ; for the old 

84 TAH o'shanteb'b bide. 

Scotsmen who frequent these taverns will carry ofE, without 
winkingy a load beneath their jackets that would floor a stout 
man of ordinary capacity. 

A queer old town is Ayr, and at the hotel above mentioned 
the curious tourist may not only sit in the chairs of Tarn and 
Johnny, but in that Bums himself has pressed ;- and if he gets 
the jolly &t old landlord in good humor, — as he is sure to get 
when Americans order some of his best " mountain dew,** — and 
engages him in conversation, he may have an opportunity to 
drink it from the very wooden cup, now hooped with silver, from 
which the poet himself indulged in potations, and drained in- 

As we ride over the road from the town of Ayr — 

" Auld Ayr, whom ne'er a town surpasses 
For honest men and bonnie lasses " — 

to Bums's birthplace, and Alloway Kirk, we find ourselves 

upon the same course traversed by Tam O'Shanter on his 

memorable ride, and passing many of those objects which, for 

their fearfrd associations, gave additional terror to the journey, 

and kept him 

'* glowering round wi' prudent cares, 
Lest bogles catch him unawares." 

A pleasant ride we had of it, recalling the verses, as each 
point mentioned in the ballad, which is such a combination 
of the ludicrous and awfrd, came into view and was pointed 
out to us. 

« The ford 
Whare in the snaw the chapman smoored, 
And past the birks and meikle stane, 
Whare drunken Charlie braks neck-bane ; 
And thro' the whins, and by the cairn, 
Whare hunters fand the murdered bairn } 
And near the thorn aboon the well, 4 
Whare Mungo's mither hanged hersel." 

But let us stop at the poet's cottage — the little one-story 
"day-biggin" it ori^ally was, when, in 1759, Robert Bums 
was bom there, consisting only of a kitchen and sitting-room; 


these still rem^n, and in a little recess in the fonner is a sort 
of bunk, or bed, where the poet first saw light ; that is, what 
little of it stole in at the deep-set window of this little den ; 
additional rooms have been built on to the cottage, including 
a large one for society meetings and anniversaiy diimers ; the 
little squat thatched cot is the Mecca of thousands of travel- 
lers from aJf parts of the world, as the visitors' book reveals. 
y An old Scotch woman, who was busy with her week's iron- 
ing, left her work, for a few moments, to show us the rcoms 
and sell a stereoscopic view, and then returned to her flat- 
irons. An old fellow, named " Miller" Gk)udie, and his wife, 
used to occupy the cot. He now rests in Alloway church- 
yard, and, as his epitaph says, — 

** For forty years it was his lot 
To show the poct*8 liumble cot; 
And, sometimes laughin', sometimes sobbin*. 
Told his last interview with Robin : 
A quiet, civil, blithesome body. 
Without a foe, was Miller Goudie." 

A framed autograph letter of Bums, and a picture of him 
at a masonic assembly, adorn the walls of the large room, and 
are about all of interest in it. A short distance beyond the 
cottage, and we come to "Alio way's auld haunted Kirk," — a 
little bit of a Scotch church, with only the walls standing, 
and familiar to us from the many pictures we had seen of it. 

Here it was that Tam saw the witches dance ; and there 
must have been the very window, just high enough for him to 
have looked in from horseback : just off from the road is the 
kirk, and near enough for Tam to have seen the light through 
the chinks, and hear the sound of mirth and dancing. Of 
course I marched straight up to the little window towards 
the road, and peeped in at the very place where Tam had 
viewed the wondrous sight; but such narrow and circum- 
scribed limits for a witches' dance ! Why, Nannie's leap and 
fling could not have been much in such a wee bit of a chapel, 
and I expressed that opinion audibly, with a derisive laugh at 
Scotch witches, when, as if to punish scepticism, tlie bit of 


stone which I had propped up against the wall to give me 
additional height, slipped from beneath my feet, bringing my 
chin in sharp contact with the window-sill, and giving me 
such a shock altogether, that I wondered if the witches were 
not still keeping guard over the old place, for it looks weird 
enough, with its gray, roofless walls, the dark ivy about them 
flapping in the breeze, and the interior choked with weeds 
and rubbish. 

In the little burial-ground of the kirk is the grave of the 
poet's father, marked by a plain tombstone, and bearing an 
epitaph written by Bums. Leaving the kirk, a few hundred 
yards' walk brings us to 

*^ The banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,^ 

and the "auld brigg" spanning it, over which Tam O'Shan- 
ter's mare Maggie, clattered just in time to save him from the 
witch's vengeance, losing her tail in the struggle on the 
"keystane." The keystone was pointed out to us by a little 
Scotch lassie, as we stood on the bridge, admuing the swift 
stream, as it whirled under the arches, and the old Scotch 
guide told us "Tam had eight mair miles to gang ere he 
stopit at his own door-stane." 

Near this bridge is the Bui-ns Monument, a sort of circular 
structure, about sixty feet higli, of Grecian architecture. In 
a circular apartment within the monument is a glass case, 
containing several relics, the most interesting of which is the 
Bible given by Bums to his Highland Mary. It is bound in 
two volumes, and on the fly-leaf of the firat is inscribed the 
following text, in the poet's handwriting : " And ye shall not 
swear by my name falsely; I am the Lord." (Levit. xix. 12.) 
And on the leaf of the second, " Thou shalt not forswear thy- 
self, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths." (Matt. 
V. 33.) In both volumes the poet has inscribed his autograph, 
and in one of them there rests a little tress of Highland 
Mary's hair. 

The grounds — about an acre in extent around the monu- 
ment — are prettily laid out, and in a little building, at one 


extremity, aie the original, far-famed figures of Tam O'Shanter 
and Souter Johnny, chiselled out of solid freestone by the 
self-taught sculptor Thom; and marvellously well-executed 
figures they are, down to the minutest details of hose and 
bonnet, as they sit with theh* mugs of good cheer, jollily 
pledging each other. This gi'oup, and that of Tam riding 
over the bridge, with the witch just catching at Maggie's tail, 
ire both familiar to almost every American family, and owe 
their familiarity, in more than one instance, to the representa- 
tions of them upon the cheap little pitchers of Wedgwood 
ware, which are so extensively used as syrup pitchera wher- 
ever buckwheat cakes are eaten. 

The ride back to Ayr, by a difi^erent route, canies us past 
some pleasant country-seats, the low bridge of Doon, and a 
lovely landscape all about us. 

But we visited the classic Doon, with its banks and braes 
so "fresh and fair," as most of our countrymen do — did it in a 
day, dreamed and imagined for an hour in the little old church- 
yard of Kirk AUoway, leaned over the auld brig, and looked 
down into the running waters, and wondered how often the 
poet had gazed at it fii'om the same place, or sauntered on 
that romantic little pathway by its bank, where we plucked 
daisies, and pressed them between the leaves of a pocket 
edition of his poems, as mementos of our visit. We did not 
omit a visit to the "twa brigs" that span the Ayr. The 
auld brig, — 

" Where twa wheel-barrows tremble when they meet,**- 

was erected in the fourteenth century, and was formerly steep 
and narrow, but has been widened and improved within the 
past fifteen years. The new one, which is about two hundred 
yards fi'om it, was built in 1788, and from it a good view of 
the river and the old bridge is obtained. 

A ride round the town shows us but little of special interest 
to write of; a fine statue of William Wallace, cut by Thom, in 
front of a Gothic building, known as Wallace Tower, being 
the most striking object that met our view. From Ayr to 


Carlisle, where we saw the castle which Bruce failed to take 
in 1312, which surrendered to Prince Charles Stuart in 
1746, and which was the scene of such barbarities on the 
conquered on its being retaken by the Duke of Cumberland. 
The old castle, or that portion of it that remains, with its 
loHy, massive tower and wall, makes an imposing appearance, 
and is something like the pictures of castles in the story- 
books. In one portion of it arc? the rooms occupied by Mary, 
Queen of Scots, on her flight to England, after the battle of 

The old red freestone cathedral, built in the time of the 
Saxons, where sleeps Dr. Paley, once archdeacon, and where 
is a monument erected to his memory, claimed a modicum 
of our time, after which we passed through Newcastle-on- 
Tyne, celebrated, as all know in these modem days, as a port 
of shipment for coal, and busy with its glass-houses, potteries, 
iron and steel factories, and machine shops, and owing its 
name to the fiict that Robert, son of William the Conqueror, 
built a new castle here after his return fi'om a military ex- 
pedition. The old donjon keep and tower still stand, massive 
and blackened, not with the smoke of battle, but of modem 
industry, which rises, in murky volumes, from many chimneys. 

On we speed, leaving Newcastle, its dingy buildings and 
murky cloud, beliind, and whirl over the raih*oad, till we reach 
the beautiful vale that holds the *' Metropolis of the North of 
England," as the guide-books style it, — the ancient city of 
York, — with its Roman walls, and its magnificent minster ; a 
city, which, A. D. 150, was one of the greatest of the Roman 
stations in England, and had a regular government, an im- 
perial palace, and a tribunal within its walls. York, which 
carries us back to school-boy days, when we studied of the 
wars of the Roses, and the houses of York and Lancaster — 
York, whose modern namesake, more than seventeen hundred 
years its junior, in the New World, has seventeen times its 

York — yes, in York one feels that he is in Old England 
indeed. Here are the old walls, still strong and massy, that 

YOBK. 89 

have echoed to the tramp of the Roman legions, that looked 
down on Adiian and Constantino the Great, tliat have succes- 
sively been manned by Britons, Picts, Danes, and Saxons, the 
latter under the command of Hengist, mentioned in the story- 
legends that tell of the pair of warlike Saxon brothers, Hengist 
and Horsa, the latter, v/hose name in my youthful days al- 
ways seemed to have some mysterious connection with the 
great white-horse banner of" the Saxon warriora, that was 
wont to float from the masts of their war ships. 

It was in York that the first Christmas was ever kept in 
England. This was done by King Arthur and his nobility 
when he began to rebuild the churches, in the year 600, that 
the Saxons had destroyed. 

York was once a place where many Jews dwelt. We all 
remember Isaac of York, in the story of Ivanhoe ; and the 
great massacre of this people there in 1490, when over two 
thousand fell victims to popular fury. 

But I am not going to give a chronological history of this 
interesting city, for there is scarcely an American reader of 
English histoiy but will recall a score of noteworthy events 
that have occurred within its ancient walls. 

The great and crowning wonder here to the tourist is, of 
course, the cathedral, or the minster, as it is called. This 
magnificent and stupendous pile, which occupied nearly two 
hundred years in erection, and has stood for three hundred 
years since its completion, is, without doubt, one of the most 
magnificent Gothic structures in the world, and excels in 
beauty and magnificence most ecclesiastical buildings of the 
middle ages. After a walk through a quaint old quarter of 
the city, and a stroll on the parapets of the great wall, through 
some of the gates, with the round, solid watch-towera above 
them, pierced with aiTow-sUts for crossbowmen, or having, 
high above, little turrets for sentinels, I was in the mood for 
the sight of the grand old cathedral, but not at all prepared 
for the superb and elegant proportions of the pile which sud- 
denly appeared to view, as I turned a comer of a street. 

The length of this majestic pile is five hundred and 'iwenty- 


four feet, ,md its breadth two hundred and twenty-two, and 
the height of its two square and massive towers one hundred 
and ninety-six feet. I got a west view of the building first, 
which is what I should suppose was properly its front, con- 
sisting of the two tall square towers, with the main entrance 
between them, surmounted by a great Gothic window, ex- 
liibiting a magnificent specimen of the leafy and fairy-like 
tracery of the fourteenth century. Tall, pointed ai'ches arc 
above it, and the two towers are also adorned with windows, 
and elaborate ornamentation. To the rear of them, at the 
end of the nave and between the two transepts, rises the cen- 
tral tower two hundred and thirteen feet. There is a fine 
open space in fi-ont of this glorious West fronts and no lover 
of architecture can come upon it for the first time without 
standing entranced at the wondrous beauty of the building in 
proportion, decoration, and design. 

Churches occupied the site of York Cathedral centuries be- 
fore it. One was built here by King Edwin, in 627 ; another 
in 767, which stood till 1069; but the present building was 
founded in 1171, and completed in the year 1400. 

The expectations created by an external "\*iew of its archi- 
tectural grandeur and rich embellishments are surpassed upon 
an examination of the interior, a particular description of 
which would require almost a volume to give space to. We 
can only, therefore, take a glance at it. 

Firet, there is the great east window, which, for magnitude 
and beauty of coloiing, is unequalled in the world. Only 
think of a great arch seventy-five feet high^ and over thirty 
feet broad, a glory of stained glass ! The upper part is a 
piece of admirable tracery, and below it are over a hundred 
compartments, occupied with scriptural representations — 
saints, priests, angels, Ac. Each pane of glass is a yard 
square, and the figures two feet thi-ee inches in length. Right 
across this gi'eat window runs what I supposed to be a strong 
iron rod, or wire, but which turned out to be a stone gallery 
or piazza, a bridge big enough for a person to cross upon, and 
from whicb the view that is had of the whole interior of this 


great minster — a vista of Gothic arches and clustered col- 
umns of more than five hundred feet in length, terminated by 
the gi'eat west window, with its gorgeous display of colored 
glass — is gi-and beyond description. The great west window 
contains pictured representations of the eight earliest arch- 
bishops of York, and eight saints, and other figures. It was 
put up in 1338, and is remarkable for its richness of coloring. 

Besides the great east and west windows, there are sixteen 
in the nave and fifteen in the side aisles. In the south tran- 
sept, which is the oldest part of the building, high up above 
the entrance, in the point of the arch, is the great " marigold 
window," formed of two concentric circles of small arches in 
the foi-m of a wheel, the lights of which give it the appearance 
of the flower fi'om which it is named, the diameter of this 
great stone and glass marigold being over thirty feet. Then, 
in the north transept, opposite, is another window of exquisite 
coloring — those warm, deep, mellow hues of the old artisans 
in colored glass, which the most cunning of their modem 
successors seek in vain to rival. It appears, as it were, a vast 
embroidery frame in five sections, each section a difierent pat- 
tern of those elaborate traceries and exquisite hues of needle- 
work with which noble ladies whiled away their time in castle- 
bower, while their knights fought the infidel in distant clime. 
This noble window is known as the " Five Sistere," from the 
fact that the pattern is said to have been wrought fi-om de- 
signs in needle-work of five maiden sisters of York. 

The story of these sisters is told by Dickens in the sixth 
chapter of Nicholas Nickleby. This magnificent window is 
fifty-seven feet in height, and it was put in in the year 1290. 
The other windows I cannot spare space to refer to ; suflice it 
to say the windows of this cathedral present a gorgeous dis- 
play of ancient stained glass not to be met with in any similar 
building in the world. In fact, the minster exhibits more 
windows than solid fabric to exterior view, imparting a mar- 
vellous degree of lightness to the huge structure, while inside 
the vastness of the space ^ves the spectator opportunity to 
stand at a proper distance, and look up at them as they are 


stretched before the view like great paintings, framed in ox* 
quisite tracery of stone-work, with the best possible effect of 
light. The glass of these windows, I was informed by the 
veiger who acted as our guide, was taken out and hidden 
during the iconoclastic excitement of Cromwell's time, and 
they ai*e now the only ones that have preserved the ancient 
glass intact in the kingdom. The most valuable are protected 
by a strong shield of extra plate glass outside. 

From the painted glories of the windows the visitor's eye 
sweeps over the vast expanse of clustered pillai-s, lofty Gothic 
arches, and splendid vistas of Gothic columns on every side. 
In the great western aisle, or nave, a perspective view of full 
three hundred feet of columns and arches is had ; and stand- 
ing upon the pavement, you look to the grand arched roof, 
which is clear ninety-nine feet above, and the eye is fairly 
dazed with the inmiensity of space. The screen, as it is 
called, which separates the nave from the choir, rises just 
high enough to form a support for the oi-gan, without con- 
cealing from view the grand arches and columns of the choir, 
which stretch far away, another vista of two hundred and 
sixty-four feet, before the bewildered view of the visitor, who 
finds himself almost awe-struck in the very vastness and sub- 
limity of this grand architectural creation. 

The screen is a most elaborate and superb piece of sculp- 
ture, and is ornamented ^vith the statues of the English kings^ 
from the time of William the Conqueror to Henry VI., fifteen 
in number. The great choir, with its exuberant display 
of carving, richly-ornamented stalls, altar, and side aisles, 
screened with carved oak, is another wonder. Hero I had 
the pleasure of listening to the choral service, performed by 
the full choir of men and boys attached to the cathedral; and 
I stood out among the monuments of old archbishops and 
warriors of five hundred years agone, and hoard that sweet 
chant float upon the swelling peals of the organ, away up 
amid the lofty groined arches of the grand old minster, till 
its dying echoes were lost amid the mysterious tracery above, 
or the grand, fiill chorus of powerful voices made the lofty 


roof to ring again, as it were, with heavenly melody. There 
was every appeal to the ear, the eye, the imagination ; and I 
may say it seemed the very poetry of religion, imd poetry of 
a sublime order, too. 

An attempt even at a description of the different monu- 
ments of the now almost forgotten, and many entirely forgot- 
ten, dignitaries and benefactors of the church that arc found 
all along the great side aisles, would be a useless task. Some 
are magnificent structures of marble, with elegantly-sculptured 
effigies of bishops in their ecclesiastical robes. Others once 
were magnificent in sculptured stone and brass, but have been 
defaced by time and vandalism, and, in their shattered ruin, 
tell the story of man's last vanity, or are a most striking 
illustration of what a perishable shadow is human greatness. 

The Chapter-house attached to York Minster is said to be 
the most perfect specimen of Gothic architecture in the world, 
and is certainly one of the most magnificent interiors of the 
kind I ever gazed upon. The records of the church give no 
information as to whom this superb edifice was erected by, 
or at what period, and the subject is one of dispute among 
the antiquaries, who suppose it must have been built either 
in the year 1200 or 1300. It is a perfect octagon, of sixty- 
three feet in diameter, and the height from the centre to the 
middle knot of the roof sixty-seven feet, without the interrup- 
tion of a single pillar, — being wholly dependent on a single 
key-pin, geometrically placed in the centre. 

Seven squares of the octagon have each a window of 
stained glass, with the armorial bearings of benefiictors of the 
church, the eighth octagon being the entrance; below the 
windows are the seats, or stalls, for the canons and dignitaries 
of the church, when they assembly here for installations and 
other purposes. The columns around the side of this room 
are carved, in the most profuse manner, with the most singu- 
lar figures, such as an ugly old fnar embracing a young girl, 
to the infinite delight of a group of nuns, grotesque figures of 
men and animals, monks playing all sorts of pranks, grinning 
faces, &c. The whole formation of this exqtnsitely-constructed 


buildiiig shows a thorough geometric knowledge in the build 
era, and the entrance to it is by a vestibule, in the fomi of a 
mason's square. 

In the vestries we had an opportunity of seeing many and 
well-authenticated historical curiosities. The most ancient of 
these is the famous Horn of Ulphus, the great Saxon drinking 
horn, from which Ulphus was wont to drink, and by which 
the church still holds valuable estates near York. With this 
great ivory horn, filled with wine, the old chieftain knelt before 
the high altar, and, solemnly quaffing a deep draught, be- 
stowed upon the church by the act all his lands, tenements, 
&c., giving to the holy fathers the horn as their title deed, 
which they have preserved ever since; and their successors 
permit saciilegious Yankees, like myself to press their lips to 
its brim, while examining the old relic. 

A more modem drinking-cup is the ancient wooden bowl, 
which was presented by Archbishop Scrope — who was be- 
headed in the year 1405 — to the Society of Cordwainers in 
1398, and by them given to the church in 1808. This more 
sensible drinking-cup has silver legs and a silver rim, and not 
only is it well adapted for a jorum of punch, but the good 
archbishop made it worth while to drink from it, according 
to the ancient inscription upon it, in Old English characters, 
which reads, — 

]&tc]^artie ard^ ht9ic[)0ft Sctoope grant unto all ifio ifiat 
tirmftid of tf)i0 cope 3E3Lti tiags to partion. 

Besides this, we had the pleasure of grasping the solid 
silver crosier, given by Queen Catharine, widow of King 
Charles II. to her confessor, a staff of weight and value, 
seven feet in length, elegantly wrought in appropriate de- 
signs. We were also shown the official rings found in the 
forgotten tombs of archbishops, in repairing the church pave- 
ment, bearing their dates of the eleventh and twelfth centuries. 
The antique chair in which the Saxon kings were crowned is 
here — a relic older than the cathedral itself; and as " uneasy 
lies the head that wears a crown," uncomfortable must have 



been the seat of him that wore it also, if my few minutes' 
experience between its great arms is worth anything; but, 
still, it was something to have sat in the very chair in which 
the bloody Richard III. had been crowned, — for both he 
and James I; were crowned in this chair, — thinking at 
the time, while I mentally execrated the crooked tyrant's 
memory, of the words Shakespeare put into his mouth: — 


** la the chair empty ? Is tho sword unswayed? 
Is the king dead ? the empire unpossessed ? 
What heir of York is there alive but we? 
And who is England's king but great York's heir?"' 

Here we were shown an old Bible, presented by Ifing 
Charles II., the old communion plate, which is five hundred 
years old, the old vestment chest, of carved oak, of the time 
of Edward III., with the legend of St. George and the Dragon 
represented upon it, a Bible of 1671, presented by James I., 
and other interesting antiquities. 

I concluded my visit to this glorious old minster by ascend- 
ing the Central or Lantern Tower, as it is called, which rises 
to a height of two hundred and thirteen feet from the pave- 
ment, and from which I had a magnificent view of the city of 
York and the surrounding country. 

Although forbearing an attempt to enter upon any detailed 
descriptions of numerous beautiful monuments in the cathe- 
dral, I cannot omit referring to the many modem memorials 
of British officers and soldiers who have perished in different 
parts of the world, fighting tho battles of their sovereign. 
Here is one to six hundred officers and privates of the nine- 
teenth regiment of foot, who fell in Russia, in 1854-5 ; another 
to three hundred officers and privates of the fifty-first, who fell 
at Burmah, in 1852-3 ; a monument to three hundred and 
seventy-three of the eighty-fourth, who perished during tho 
mutiny and rebellion in India in 1857, '8 and '9 ; a memorial 
slab to six hundred officers and men of the thirty-third West 
York, or Wellington's Own, who lost their lives in the Rus- 
sian campaign of 1854-6; a beautiful, elaborate monument 


to Colonel Moore and those of the Inniskillen Dragoons, who 
perished with him in a transport vessel at sea,&c. 

There is not a church or cathedral, not in ruins, that the 
tourist visits in Great Britain, but that he reads the bloody 
catalogue of victims of England's glory recorded on mural 
tablets or costly monuments, a glory that seems built upon 
hecatombs of lives, showing that the very empire itself ia 
held together by the cement of human blood, — blood, too, 
of the dearest and the bravest, — for I have read upon costly 
monuments, reared by titled parents, of noble young soldiers, 
of twenty-two and twenty years, and even younger, who have 
fallen " victims to Chinese treachery," " perished in a typhoon 
in the Indian Ocean," " been massacred in India," " lost at sea," 
"killed in the Crimea." They have fallen upon the burning 
sands of India, amid the snows of Russia, or in the depths of 
savage forests, or sunk beneath the pitiless wave, in uphold- 
ing the blood-red banner of that nation. This fearful record 
that one encounters upon every side is a terrible and bloody 
reckoning of the cost of the great nation's glory and power. 

From the glories of York Minster, from the pleasant and 
dreamy walks on delightful spring days, upon its old walls, 
and beneath its antique gateways, its ruined cloisters of St. 
Leonard's, founded by Athelstane the Saxon, and the stately 
ruins of St. Mary's Abbey, with the old Norman arch and 
shattered walls, we will glance at an English city under a 
cloud, or, I might almost say, under a pall, for the gi*eat black 
banner that hangs over Sheffield is almost dark enough for 
one, and in that respect reminds us of our own Pittsburg, 
with the everlasting coal smoke permeating and penetrating 
everywhere and everything, 

The streets of Sheffield have the usual grimy, smoky ap- 
pearance of a manufacturing place, and, apart from the steel 
and cutlery works, there is but little of interest here. One 
cannot help observing, however, the more abject squalor and 
misery which appear in some of the poorer neighborhoods, 
than is ever seen in similar towns or cities in America. The 
spirit shops, with their bold signs of different kinds of liquors, 


and the ffn saloons, with their great painted casks reai*ed on 
high behind the counter, at which women serve out the bhie 
nun, are visible explanations of the cause of no small portion 
of the misery. 

I found the cutlery works that I visited conducted far dif- 
ferently than we manage such things in America, where the 
whole work would be earned on in one great factory, and 
from year to year improvements made in machinery, interior 
arrangements, Ac. ; but here the eflfort seems to be, on the 
part of the workmen, to resist every advance or improvement 

We visited the great show-rooms of Rogers & Sons, where 
specimens of every description of knives, razors, scissoi-s, cork- 
screws, boot-hooks, &c^ that they manufacture, were exhibited, 
a very museum of steel work ; and a young salesman was de- 
tailed to answer the questions and show the same, inchiding 
the celebrated many-bladed knife, which has one blade added 
for eveiy year. 

A visit to Joseph Elliot & Son's razor works revealed to 
us the manner in which many of the manufacturers carry on 
their business. We found the workmen not all together in 
one factory, but in different buildings. In one was where the 
first rough process of forging was performed ; from thence, 
perhaps across a street, the blades received further touches 
from other workmen, and so on, tUl, when ready for grinding 
and polishing, they were earned to the grinding and polish-' 
ing works, some distance ofl^ and finally returned to a build- 
ing near the warerooms, to be joined to the handles, after 
which they were papered and packed, immediately adjoin- 
mg the warerooms proper, where sales were made and goods 

I was surprised, in visiting the forges where the elastic 
metal was beat into graceful blades, to find them little dingy 
nooks and comers in a series of old rookeries of buildings,, 
often badly lighted, cramped and inconvenient, and difficult 
of access. No American workmen would work in such sn 
place ; but in watching the progress of the work, we saw in^ 




stances of the skill and thoroughness of British mechanics, 
who have devoted their life to one particular branch of inanu 
facture — the precision of stroke in forging, the rapidity with 
which it was done, to say nothing of the reliability, which is 
one characteristic of English work. 

In that country, where the ranks of every department of 
labor are so crowded, there seems to be an ambition a3 to 
who shall do the best work, who shall be he that turns out 
the most skilfully wrought article; and of course the incentive 
to this ambition is a permanent situation, and a workman 
whom the master will be the last to part with in dull times. 
Then, again, in the battle for life, for absolute bread and 
butter, people are only too glad to make a sacrifice to learn 
a trade that will provide it. No boy can set up as a journey- 
man hero afler a couple of years' experience, as they do in 
America. There are no such bunglers in every department 
of mechanical work as in our country. To do joumeyman'g 
work and earn joumejrman's pay, a man must have served a 
regular apprenticeship, and have learned his business ; and he 
has to pay his master for giving him the opportunity, and 
teaching him a trade, by which he can work and receive a 
joumejrman's pay — which is right and proper. The com- 
pensation may be in the advantage the master gets from good 
work at a low figure in the last years of the apprenticeship, 
or in some kinds of business in a stipulated sum of money 
])aid to him. Yet in England he gets some return, instead 
of having his workman, as is generally the case in America, 
as soon as he ceases to spoil material and becomes of some 
value, desert him aana cSremonie. 

The difficulty, in America, lies in the enormous demand for 
mechanical labor, so large that many are willing and obliged 
to receive inferior work or none at all, in the haste that all 
have to be rich, the boy to have journeyman's wages, the 
journeyman to be foreman, and foreman to be contractor and 
manager, and the abundant opportunity for them all to be so 
with the very smallest qualifications for the positions. 

It is the thorough workmanship of many varieties of British 


goods that makes them so much superior to those of American 
manufacture ; and we may talk m this country as much as we 
please about its being snobbish to prefer foreign to American 
manufactured goods, yet just as long as the American article 
is inferior in quality, durability, and finish to the foreign ar- 
ticle, just so long will people of means and education pur- 
chase it. I believe in encouraging American manufactures 
to their fullest extent ; but let American manufacturers, when 
they are encouraged by protection or whatever means, prove 
by their products that they are deserving it, as it is gratify- 
ing to know that many of them have; and in this very article 
of steel, the great Pittsburg steel workers, such as Park Bros. A 
Co., Hussey, Wells, & Co., Anderson, Cook, & Co., and others 
in that city and Philadelphia, whose names do not now occur 
to me, have actually, in some depaitments of their businesSf 
beaten the British manufacturers in excellence and finish, 
proving that it can be done in America. When visiting the 
great iron works, foi-ges, and factories in Pittsburg, I have 
fi^quently encountered, in the different departments, skilled 
workmen from Birmingham, Sheffield, and other English 
manufacturing towns, who, of course, were doing much better 
than at home, and whose thorough knowledge of their trade 
never failed to be the burden of the managers' conmiendation. 

A razor is beaten out into shape, ground, tempered, polished, 
and finished much more speedily than I imagined ; and as an 
illustration of the cheapness at which one can be produced, 
very good ones are made by Rogers & Sons for six shillings 
a dozen, or sixpence each. This can be done because they 
are made by apprentices, whose wages are comparatively 
trifling. A very large number of these razors go to th<^ 
United States. Rogers' knives and razors of the finer de- 
scriptions generally command a slight advance over those 
of other manufacturers, although there are some here even in 
Sheffield whose work is equally good in every respect. 

The Messrs. Elliot's razors are celebrated for their excel- 
lence both in England and this country. In visiting their 
works T was received by one of the partners, a man who owns 


his elegant coimtry-Iionse, and enjoys a handsome income, bat 
who was in liis great wareroom, with his workman's apron 
on — a badge which he seemed to wear as a matter of course, 
and in no way affecting his position ; and I then remembered 
one American gentleman, who, after rising to affluence, was 
never too proud to wear his apron if he thought that part of 
his dress ' necessary about his business, and he a man we all 
remember sans reproche — the late Jonas Chickering, tlie great 
2)iano manufacturer of Boston. 

At Needham Brothers' cutlery works we saw table knives 
beaten out of the rough steel with an astonishing rapidity, 
passed from man to man, till the black, shapeless lump was 
placed in my hand a trenchant blade, fit for service at the 
festive board. Both here and at Elliot & -Sons' razor works 
we saw invoices of handsome cutlery in process of manufa(V 
ture for the American market. 

The grinders and polishers here receive the highest wages, 
on account of the unhealthy nature of the employment, which 
has frequently been described, the fine particles of steel ai^ 
fecting the lungs so that the grinders are said to be short- 
lived men, and their motto " a short life and a merry one," 
as I was informed; the "merry" part consisting of getting 
uproariously drunk between Saturday night and Tuesday 
morning. These giindcrs are also exceedingly jealous of ap- 
prentices, and I shrewdly suspect in some degree magnify 
the dangers of their calling, in order that their numbers may 
be kept as few, and wages as high, as possible. 

A vast deal of ale is drank in Sheflield, as may well bo im- 
a^ned ; and the great arched vaults which form the support 
to a bridge, or causeway, out from the railway station to the 
i treets of the city, are filled with hundreds on hundreds of 
barrels of this popular English beverage. And in truth, to 
enjoy good ale, and get good ale, one must go to England for 
it ; the butler on the stage who said, " They 'ave no good 
halo in Hamcrica, because they ain't got the opps," spoke 
comparatively, no doubt ; but at the little English inns, upon 
benches benoath the branches of a great tree, or in cleanly 


sanded little public-house parlors at the windows, lookmg out 
upon charming English landscapes, the frothing tankards are 
espedally inyiting and comforting to those using them; 
while, per contra, the foul, stale effluvia from the sloppy 
dens in this city, which were thronged when the men were 
off work, the bluff, bloated, and sodden appearance of ardent 
lovers of the ale of England, were evidence that its use might 
be abused, as well as that of more potent fluids. 

There is comparatively little of historical interest in Shef 
field to attract the attention of the tourist. There was an 
old castle erected there at an early period, and, at a place 
called Sheffield Manor-house, Mary, Queen of Scots, passed 
over thirty years of her imprisonment; but the chief interest 
of the place is, of course, its cutlery manufactories, and its 
reputation for good knives dates back to the thirteenth centu- 
ry, when it was noted as the place where a kind of knife 
known as " Whittles ^ were made. The presence of iron ore, 
coal, and also the excellent water power near the city, make 
it a very advantageous place for such work. The great giind- 
ing works in the city, where the largest proportion of that 
work is done, are driven by steam power. Besides cutlery in 
all its branches, Sheffield turns out plated goods, Britannia 
ware, brass work, buttons, &c., in large quantities. 

Leaving the smoke, hum, clatter, and dingy atmosphere of 
a great English manufacturing city, we took rail, and sped on 
till we reached Matlock-Bath. Hero debarking, we took an 
open carriage for Edensor, a little village belonging to the 
Duke of Devonshire, and situated upon a portion of his mag- 
nificent estate, the finest estate of any nobleman in England. 
And some idea of its extent may be gathered from the fact 
that its pleasure park contains two thousand acres. Our ride 
to this estate, known as Chatsworth, was another one of those 
enjoyable experiences of charming English scenery, over a 
pleasant drive of ten miles, till we entered upon the duke's 
estates, and drove across one comer, for a mile or more, to a 
pretty little road-side inn, where we were welcomed by a 
white-aproned landlord, landlady, and waiter, just such as are 


described by the noval writers, and people to whom the 
harried, bustling, impiirious manner of go-ahead Americans 
eeems most extraordinary and smpming. 

The Duke of Devonshire's landed property is just such a 
one as an American should visit to realize the impressions he 
has received of a nobleman's estate from English stories, nov- 
els, and dramatic representations. Here great reaches of 
beautiful greensward swept away as far as the eye could reach, 
with groups of magnificent oaks in the landscape view, and 
troops of deer bounding off in the distance. Down the slope, 
here and there, came the ploughman, homeward plodding 
his weary way, in almost the same costume that Westall has 
drawn him in his exquisite little vignette, in the Chiswick 
edition of Gray's poems. There, in " the open," upon the 
close-cut turf, as we approached the village, was a party of 
English boys, playing the English game of cricket. Here, in 
a sheltered nook beneath two tall trees, nestled the cottage — 
the pretty English cottage of one of the duke's gamekeepers. 
The garden was gay with many-colored flowers, three chubby 
children were rolling over each other on the grass, and a little 
brook wimpled on its course down towards groups of cluster- 
ing alders, quarter of a mile away. Farther on, we meet the 
gamekeeper himself^ with his double-barrelled gun and game- 
pouch, and followed by two splendid pointers. There were 
hill and dale, river and lake, oaks and forest, wooded hills and 
rough rocks, grand old trees, — 

" The brave old oak, 
That stands in his pride and majesty 
When a hundred years have flown," 

and upon an eminence, overlooking the whole, stands the pal- 
ace of the duke, the whole front, of twelve or thirteen hun- 
dred feet, having a gi-and Italian flower garden, with its urns, 
vases, and statues in full view over the dwarf balustrades 
that protect it ; the beautiful Grecian architecture of the 
building, the statues, fountains, forest, stream, and slope, all 
so charmingly combined by both nature and art into a lovely 
landscape picture, as to seem almost like a scene fi*om fairy 

A nobleman's estate. 103 

But here we are at Edensor, the little village owned by the 
dake, and in which he is finishing a new church for his ten- 
antry, a very handsome edifice, at a cost of nearly fifteen thou- 
sand pounds. This Edensor is one of the most beautiful little 
villages in England. Its houses are all built in Elizabethan, 
Swiss, and quaint styles of architecture, and looking, for all 
the world, like a clean little engraving from an illustrated 

I hardly know where to commence any attempt at descrip- 
tion of this magnificent estate ; but some idea may be had of 
its extent from the fact that the park is over nine miles in 
circumference, that the kitchen gardens and ,green-houses 
cover twenty acres, and that there are thirty gi'cen-houses, 
from fifty to seventy-five feet long; that, standing upon a 
hill-top, commanding a circuit view of twelve miles, I could 
see nothing but what this man owned, or was his estate. 
Through the great park, as we walked, magnificent pheasants, 
secure in their protection by the game laws upon this vast 
estate, hardly waddled out of our path. The troops of deer 
galloped within fifty paces of us, sleek cattle grazed upon the 
verdant slope, and every portion of the land showed evidence 
of carefiil attention from skilful hands. 

We reached a bridge which spanned the little river, — a 
fine, massive stone structure, built from a design by Michael 
Angelo, — and crossing it, wound our way up to the grand 
entrance, with its great gates of wrought and gilt iron. One 
of those well-got-up, full-fed, liveried individuals, whom Punch 
denominates flunkies, carried my card in, for permission to 
view the premises, which is readily accorded, the steward of 
the establishment sending a seiTant to act as guide. 

Passing through a broad court-yard, we enter the grand 
entrance-hall — a noble room some sixty or seventy feet in 
length, its lofty wall adorned with elegant frescoes, repre- 
senting scenes from the life of Caesar, including his celebrated 
Passing of the Rubicon, and his Death at the Senate House, 
Ac. Passing up a superb, grand staircase, rich with statues 
of lioathen deities and elegantly-wrought columns, we went 


on to the state apartments of the house. The ceilings of 
these magnificent rooms arc ;i<lomed with splendid pictures, 
among which are the Judgment of Paris, Phaeton in the 
Chariot of the Sun, Aurora, and other mythological subjects, 
while the rooms themselves, opening one out of the other, 
arc each rich in works of vertu and ait, and fonn a vista of 
beauty and wonder. Recollect, all these rooms were differ- 
ent, each furnished in the most perfect taste, each rich in rare 
and cuiious productions of ait, ancient and modem, for 
which all countries, even Egj-pt and Turkey, had been ran- 

The presents of kings and princes, and the purchases of the 
richest dukes for three generations, contributed to adorn the 
apartments of this superb palace. Not among the least won- 
derful works of art is some of the splendid wood-carving of 
Gibbon upon the walls — of game, flowens, and fi*uit, so ex- 
quisitely executed that the careless heap of grouse, snipe, or 
partridges look as though a light breeze would stir their very 
feathers — flowers that seem as if they would di'op from the 
walls, and a game-bag at which I had to take a close look to 
see if it were really a creation of the carver's art. 

Upon the walls of all the rooms are suspended beautiful 
pictures by the great artists. Here, in one room, we found 
our old, famiUar friend, Bolton Abbey in the Olden Time, 
the original painting by Landseer, and a magnificent picture 
it is. In another room was one of Holbein's portraits of 
Henry VIH., and we were shown also the rosary of this king, 
who was married so numerously^ an elegant and elaborately- 
cai'-od piece of work. In another apartment was a huge 
tab 1 3 of malachite, — a single magnificent slab of about eight 
feet long by four in width, — a clock of gold and malachite, 
]^rcsented to the duke by the Emperor Nicholas, worth a 
thousand guineas, a broad table of one single sheet of trans- 
lucent spar. 

In the state bedroom was the bed in which George II. 
died. Here also were the chau-s and foot^stools that were 
used by George III. and his queen at their coronation; and 


in another room the two chaii-s in which William IV. and 
Queen Adelaide sat when they were crowned, and looking in 
their elaborate and florid decoration of gold and color pre- 
cisely like the chairs placed upon the stage at the theatre for 
the mimic monarchs of dramatic representations. In fact, all 
the pomp, costume, and paraphernalia of royalty, so strikingly 
reminds an American of theatric display, that the only differ- 
ence seems that the one is shown by a manager, and the other 
by a king. 

Then there were numerous magnificent cabinets, ancient 
and modem, inlaid with elegant mosaic work, and on their 
shelves rested that rich, curious, and antique old china of 
eyery design, for which the wealthy were wont to pay such 
fabulous prices. Some was of exquisite beauty and elegant 
design ; others, to my unpractised eye, would have sufTcred 
in comparison with our present kitchen delf. Elegant tapes- 
. tries, cabinet paintings, beautifully-modelled furniture, met 
the eye at every turn ; rare bronze busts and statues appro* 
priately placed ; the flooi-s one sheet of polished oak, so ex- 
/' actly were they matched ; and the grand entrance doors of 

each one of the long range of beautiful rooms being placed 
exactly opposite the other, give a vista of five hundred and 
sixty feet in length. 

Then there was the great library, which is a superb room 
over a hundi-ed feet long, with great columns from floor to 
ceiHng, and a light gallery running around it. Opening out 
of it are an ante-library and cabinet library — perfect gems of 
rooms, rich in medallions, pictures by Landseer, &c., and, of 
couree, each room containing a wealth of literature on the 
book-shelves in the Spanish mahogany alcoves. In fact, the 
rooms in this edifice realize one's idea of a nobleman's palace, 
and the vL;itoi" sees that they contain all that unboimded 
wealth can purchase, and taste and art produce. I must not 
forget, in one of these apartments, a whole set of ex- 
quisite Httle filigree, silver toys, made for one cf the duke's 
daughters, embracing a complete outfit for a baby-house, 
and including piano, chairs, carriage, &C., all beautifully 


wrought, elaborate specimens of workmanship, artistically 
made, but, of course, useless for service. 

In one of the great galleries we were shown a magnificent 
collection of artistic wealth in the form of nearly a thousand 
original drawings — first rough sketches of the old mastera, 
some of their masterpieces which adorn the great galleries of 
Europe, and are celebrated all over the world. 

Only think of looking upon the original designs, the rough 
crayon, pencil, or chalk sketches made by Rubens, Salvator 
Rosa, Claude Lorraine, Raphael, Titian, Correggio, Michael 
Angelo, Nicolas Poussin, Hogarth, and other great artists, of 
some of their most celebrated works, and these sketches bear- 
ing the autogi-aphic signatures of the painters ! This grand 
collection of artistic wealth is all arrayed and classified into 
Flemish, Venetian, Spanish, French, and Italian schools, &c., 
and the value in an artistic point of view is almost as incon- 
ceivable as the interest to a lover of art is indescribable. The 
tourist can only feel, as he is compelled to hurry through such 
treasures of art, that the brief time he has to devote to them 
is but little better than an aggi-avation. 

An elegant private chapel, rich in sculpture, painting, and 
carving, affords opportunity for the master of this magnificent 
estate to worship God in a luxurious manner. Scenes from 
the life of the Saviour, from the pencils of great artists, adorn 
the walls — Veiiio's IncreduUty of* Thomas; an altar-piece 
by Cibber, made of Derbyshire spar and marble, with figures 
of Faith and Hope, and the wondrous wood caning of Gib- 
bon, are among the treasures of this exquisite temple to the 
Most High. 

Next we visit the Sculpture Gallery, in which are collected 
the choicest works of art in Chatsworth : the statues, busts, 
vases, and bronzes that we have passed in niches, upon cabi- 
nets, on great marble staircases, and at various other points 
in the mansion, would in themselves have formed a wondrous 
collection; but here is the Sculpture Gallery proper, a lofty 
hall over one hundred feet in length, lighted from the top, 
and the light is managed so as to display to the best advan« 


tage the treaaunis of art here collected. I can only mention 
A few of the most striking which I jotted down in my note- 
book, and which will indicate the value of the collection: 
Discobtdus, by Kessels ; upon the panels of the pedestal, on 
which this statue is placed, are inlaid slabs of elegant Swedish 
porphyry, and a fine mosaic taken from Herculaneum; a 
colossal marble bust of Bonaparte, by Canova; Gott's Venus; 
two colossal iions (after Canova), cut in Carrara marble, one 
byRinaldi and the other by Benaglia — they are beautifully 
finished, and the weight of the group is eight tons ; bust of 
Edward Everett, by Powers ; the Venus Genetrix of Thor- 
waldsen ; five elegantly finished small columns from Constan- 
tinople, surmounted by Corinthian capitals cut in Rome, and 
crowned with vases and balls, all of beautiful workmanship ; 
a statue of Hebe, by Canova; a colossal group of Mars and 
Cupid, by Gibson ; Cupid enclosing in his hands the butter- 
fly ; an image of Psyche, the Grecian emblem of the soul, an 
exquisite piece of sculpture, by Finelli ; a bass-relief of three 
sleeping Cupids, also most life-like in execution; Tadolini's 
Ganymede and Eagle; Bartolini's Bacchante with Tamborine; 
a superb vase and pedestal, presented by the Emperor of 
Russia; Venus wounded by treading on a rose, and Cupid 
extracting the thorn ; Endymion sleeping with his dog watch- 
ing, by Canova: Achilles wounded; Venus Filatrice, as it is 
called, a beautiful spinning girl, one of the most beautiful 
works in the gallery — the pedestal on which this figure 
stands is a fragment from Trajan's Forum ; Petrarch's Laura, 
by Canova, &c. From the few that I liave mentioned, the 
wealth of this collection may be imagined. In the centre of 
the room stands the gigantic Mecklenburg Vase, twenty feet 
in cu'cumference, sculptured out of a single block of granite, 
resting on a pedestal of the same material, and inside the vase 
a serpent coiled in form of a figure eight, wrought fi-om black 

I have given but a mere glance at the inside of this elegant 
palaoe : in passing through the different grand apartments, the 
\isitor, if he will step fi:om time to time into the deep win* 


dows and look upon the scene without, ynH see how art has 
managed that the very landscape views shall have additional 
charm and beauty to the eye. One window commands u 
close-shaven green lawn over a hundred feet wide and five 
hundred long, as regular and clean as a sheet of green velvet, 
its extreme edge rich in a border of many-colored flowers ; 
another shows a slope crossed with walks, and enlivened 
with vases and sparkling fountains ; another, the natural land- 
scape, with river and bridge, and the backgi-ound of noble 
oak trees ; a fouitli shows a series of terraces rising one above 
the other for hundreds of feet, rich in flowering shrubs and 
plants, and descending the centre from the very summit, a 
great flight of stone steps, thirty feet in width, down whicjli 
dashes a broad, thin sheet of water like a great web of silver 
in the sunshine, reflecting the marble statues at its margin, 
till it reaches the very verge of the broad gravel walk of the 
pleasure-grounds, as if to dash in torrents over it, when it 
disappears, as by magic, into the very earth, being conveyed 
away by 'a subterranean passage to the river. 

After walking about the enclosed gardens immediately 
around the palace, which are laid out in Italian style, with 
vases, statues, and fountains, reminding one strikingly of views 
upon theatrical act-drops on an extended scale, we came to 
several acres of ground, which appeared to have been left in 
a natural state ; huge crags, abrupt cliflsi with dripping water- 
fall falling over the edge into a silent, black tani at its base, 
curious caverns, huge bouldere thrown together as by some 
convulsion, and odd plants growing among them. 

In and about romantic views, our winding path carried us 
until w^e were stopped by a huge boulder of rock that had 
tumbled down, apparently from a neighboring crag, directly 
upon the pathway. We were about to turn back to make a 
detour^ as clambering over the obstacle was out of the ques- 
tion, when our guide solved the difficulty by pressing againbt 
the intruding mass of rock, which, to our surprise, yielding, 
swung to one side, leaving passage for us to pass. It was 
artificially poised upon a pivot for this purpose. Then it was 


damp soil ; great pitcher-plants, huge broad leaves of cniionfl 
colors, looking as if cut from different varieties of velvet, and 
other fantastic wonders of the tropics, greeted us at every 
turn. Here was the curious sago palm; there rose with its 
clusters of fruit the date palm ; again, great clusters of rich 
bananas drooped pendent from their support ; singular shrubs, 
curious grasses, wonderfrd leaves huge in size and singular in 
shape, and wondrous trees as large as Ufe^ rose on every side, 
80 that one might readily imagine himself in an East Indian 
jungle or a Brazilian forest, — 

" And every air was heavy with the sighs 
Of orange groves," — 

or the strong, spicy perfrime of strange trees and plants on- 
known in this cold climate. 

Over seventy thousand square feet of glass are between 
the iron ribs of the great roof of this conservatory, and within 
its ample space the soil and temperature are carefrdly ar- 
ranged to suit the nature and characters of the different 
plants it contains, while neither expense nor pains are spared 
to obtain and cultivate these vegetable curiosities in their 
native luxuriance and beauty. 

I will not attempt a particular description of the other 
green-houses. There are thirty in all, and each devoted to 
different kind.s of fruits or flowers — a study for the horticul- 
turist or botanist. One was devoted entirely to medicinal 
plants, another to rare and curious flowering plants, gay in 
all the hues of the rainbow, and rich with perftraie ; a Victoria 
Regia house, just completed, of octagon form, and erected 
expressly for the growth of this curious product of South 
American waters ; magnificent graperies, four or five in all, 
and BQveti hundred feet long, with the green, white, and purple 
clusters depending in every direction and in various stages 
growth, from blossom to perfection; pineries containing 
^J ® Regiments of the fruit, ranged in regular ranks, with 
^^^ ^^nial blades erect above their green and yellow coats 
• Peach-houses, with the pink blossoms just bursting 

112 "ye olden time.'* 


Haddon Hall is in fact a very fine example of an old ba- 
ronial hall in ye times of old, and portions of the interior ap- 
pear as thongh it had been preserved in the exact condition 
it was left by its knightly occupants three hundred years 
ago. ' ^ 

The embattled turrets of Haddon, rising above the trees, as 
it stood on its rocky platform, overlookiog the little River 
Wye and the surrounding country, seemed only to be wanting 
the knightly banner fluttering above them, and wo almost ex- 
pected to see the flash of a spear-head in the sunlight, or the 
glitter of a steel helmet from the ancient but well-preserved 
walls. We climbed up the steep ascent to the gi*eat arched 
entrance, surmounted with the arms, in rude sculpture, of the 
Vernon family, who held the property for three centuries 
and a half; and beneath that arch, where warlike helmets, 
haughty brows, and beauteous ladies, the noblest and bravest 
blood of England have passed, passed we. 

No warder's horn summons the man-at-arms to the battle- 
ments above; no drawbridge falls, with lining clang, over 
the castle moat, or pointed portcullis slowly raises its iron 
fangs to admit us ; but for hundreds of years have hundi-eds 
of feet pressed that threshold of stone — the feet of those of 
our own time, and of those who slumbered in the dust hun- 
dreds of yeara ere we trod the earth ; and we mark, as we 
pass through the little door, cut through one of the broad 
leaves of the great gates, that in the stony threshold is the 
deep impression of a human foot, worn by the innimierable 
stoppings that have been made upon the same spot by mailed 
heels, ladies' slippei-s, pilgiims' sandals, troopers' boots, or the 
leather and steel-clad feet of our own time. Passed the portal, 
and we were in the gi-and, open couit-yard, with its quaint 
ornaments of stone carving, its stone pavement, and entrances 
to various parts of the building. , 

There is a picture, entitled " Coming of Age in the Olden 
Time," which is familiar to many of my readers, and which is 
still common in many of our print-stores ; an engraving issued 
by one of the Scotch Art Unions, I believe, which was 


^*^^^lrfc iorcibly to my mind, as I stood in this old court- 

7^^ oC KLaddon Hall, there were so many general features 

\u.^\, -^^^x-o Bimilar, and it required no great stretch of the im- 

^©natioxi. for me to place the young nobleman "upon the very 

^^i\, o£ steps he occupies in the picture, and to group the 

o\»\ier figures in the parts of the space before me, which 

^^enied the very one they had formerly occupied; but my 

dreams and imaginings were interrupted by a request to come 

and see what remained of the realities of the place. 

First, there was the great kitchen, all of stone, its fireplace 
big enough to roast an ox ; a huge rude table or dresser ; the 
great trough, or sink, into which fresh water was conducted : 
and an adjoining room, with its huge chopping-block still re- 
maining, was evidently the larder, and doubtless many a rich 
haunch of venison, or juicy baron of bee^ ha« been tiimmed 
into shape here. Another great vaulted room, down a flight 
of steps, was the beer cellar ; and a good supply of stout ale 
was kept there, as is evinced by the low platform of stone- 
work all around, and the stone drain to carry off the drippings* 
Then there is the bake-house, with its mouldingnstone and 
ovens, the store-rooms for com, malt, &c^ aU indicating that 
the men of ye olden times liked good, generous living. 

The Great Hall, as it is called, where the lord of the 
castle feasted with his guests, still remains, with its rough 
roof and rafters of oak, its minstrel gallery, ornamented with 
stags' antlers ; and there, raised above the stone floor a foot 
or so, yet remains the dais, upon which rested the table at 
which sat the nobler guests ; and here is the very table itself, 
three long, blackened oak planks, supported by rude X legs — 
the table that has borne the boars' heads, the barons of beef, 
gilded peacocks, haunches of venison, flagons of ale, and 
sloups of wine. Let us stand at its head, and look do^vn the 
old baronial hall : it was once noisy with mirth and revelry, 
music and song: the fires from the huge fireplaces flashed 
on armor and weapons, faces and forms that have all long 
since crumbled into dust ; and here is only left a cheerless, 
bam-like old room, thirty-five feet long and twenty-five wide> 



with time-blackened rafters, and a retainers* room, or gervjints' 
hall, looking into it. 

Up a massive staircase of huge blocks of stone, and we 
ai-e in another apartment, a room called the dining-room, 
used for that purpose by moi-e modern occupants of the Hall; 
and here we find portraits of Henry VII. and his queen, and 
also of the king's jester, Will Somers. Over the fireplace 
are the royal arms, and beneath them, in Old English charac- 
ter, the motto, — 

Up stairs, six semicircular steps of solid oak, and we arc in 
the long gallery, or ball-room, one hundred and ten feet long 
and eighteen wide, with immense bay-windows, commanding 
beautiful views, the sides of the room wainscoted in oak, and 
decorated with carvings of the boai-^s head and peacock, the 
crests of the Vernon and Manners families; carvings of roses 
and thistles also adorn the walls of this apartment, which was 
said to have been built in Queen Elizabeth's time, and there 
is a curious story told of the oaken floor, which is, that the 
boards were all cut from one tree that grew in the garden, 
and that the roots furnished the great semicircular steps that 
lead up to the room. The compartments of the bay-windows 
are adorned with armorial bearings of difierent owners of the 
place, and from them are obtained some of those ravishing 
landscape views for which England is so famous — silvery 
stream, spanned by rustic bridges, as it meandered off to- 
wards green meadows ; the old park, with splendid group of 
oaks; the distant village, with its ancient church; and all 
those picturesque objects that contribute to make the picture 

We now wend our way through other rooms, with the old 
Gobelin tapestry upon the walls, with the pictured stor}*^ of 
Moses still distinct upon its wondrous folds, and into rooms 
comparatively modem, that have been restored, kept, and 
used within the past century. Here is one with ftimiture of 
green and damask, chairs and state bed, and hung with Gobe- 


^ ® i^tf^ ^^9 with Esop's fables wrought upon it. Here, again, 
^> tej^ carving, massive oak-work, and ill-constructed join- 
ti^^^ ^f the olden time. 

Q^y.'fe} e must not leave Haddon Hall without passing 

10 ^ ^^c^ \be ante-room, as it is called, and out into the garden 

cqqj J^^^^iiy V^emon's Walk. On our way thither the guide lifts 

tte A ^^ Ion ally the arras, or tapestry, and shows us those con- 

g^jj ^^\^x>ors and passages of which we have read so often in 

bv Ht^ ^s • SLTid, BOW that I think of it, it was here at Haddon 

^Th ^\^\t TTk^T^y o^ ^^ wild and romantic ideas were obtained 

Tt ^w RslAcI^^ ^^^ that celebrated old-fashioned romance, 

, ^^ Alvst^erf^^ of Udolpho." 

T^ UfT-xrrS^^^ of Haddon," writes S. C. Hall, "has been, 

painty V ^ \y-f nxii^<^» a treasure store of the English landscape 
Vfim*^^^ rkA o^^^ of the most favorite 'bits' being ' Dorothy 
ber * ^^^' -cV"i»'l^»^ ^^^ ^^® ^^^r out of which tradition describes 
1 ^ ar>ii*^ to meet her lover. Sir John Manners, with 

^X eloF^^^*" Haddon, by this marriage, became the 

P^P^:^^^^^^^ -f -fcb^ noble house of Rutland, who made it their 
KfiiJ^,^^^ -t-ill 'fcb^ commencement of the present century, when 
jiey-w^^^ -*recl "to the more splendid castle of Belvoir; but to 
juj-s^^™ of I^utland the tourist and those who venerate 
^^ much for keeping this fine old place from 

. ^^""' y-.fc^xx'ts,'' and so much of it in its original and ancient 

, laxidscape painters had made good and frequent 

Tl:xst^ c^arden of Haddon I ascertained the moment I 

nse of* . . X^orothy's Walk, a fine terrace, shaded by limes 

entiwr^^'' iyi.ot<3S, leads to picturesque flights of marble steps, 

ani ^3^^ vecog^i^®^ as old friends that had figured in many a 

v?\vvoVi -^ ^ ^Yj^eatrical scenery, upon many an act-drop, or been 

w-ftaV*'' TC sfei^^^^^y borrowed from, in effect, by the stage-car- 

ca!^ tt^ g^ xnachinist in a set scene. Plucking a little bunch 

ctv*"^^ :\Aa'^^^ ^^^ Dorothy's Walk, and a sprig of ivy 

^ c ^'^ y^Q steps down which she hurried in the darkness, 

c^€<C^ *,oi- friends were revelling in another part of the hall. 


we bade farewell to old Haddon, with its quaint halLs, its 

coort-yards, and its terraced garden, amid whose venerable 


" the air 

Seems hallowed by the breath of other times.** 


Kekilwobth Castle will in many respects disappoint 
the visitor, for its chief attraction is the interest with which 
Walter Scott has invested it in his vivid description of the 
Earl of Leicester's magnificent pageant on the occasion of the 
reception of his royal mistress, Queen Elizabeth. And the 
host of visitors who make the pUgrimage to this place, so 
hallowed by historical associations, may be classed as pilgrims 
doing homage to the genius of Scott. I find, on looking up 
Kenilworth's history, that it was here that ^old John of Gaunt, 
time-honored Lancaster,'' dwelt; here also his son Boling- 
broke, afterwards Henry IV., and Prince Hal, when he was 
a jovial, roistering sack-drinker; here Henry VI. retired 
during the Jack Cade rebellion ; Richard III. has held high 
revel in the great hall; Henry VII. and bluff Hal Vlll. 
have feasted there with their nobles; but, after all, the 
visitor goes to see the scene where, on the 9th of July, 1575, 
was such a magnificent fete as that described by the novelist. 

We walked through the village and on towards the castle, 
through the charming English scenery I have described so 
often, the gardens gay with roses and the banks of the road- 
side rich with wild flowers, a fair blue sky above, and th^ 
birds joyous in the hedges and woods. This was the avenue 
that led towards the Gallery Tower, through which rode 
Elizabeth with a cavalcade illuminated by two hundred wax 
torches of Dudley's retainers, the blaze of which flashed upon 
her sparkling jewels as she rode in stately style upon her 



tG^^ 4 ^^ diarger — the avenue now a little rustic road, 
j^. ^^^^ ^alth of daisies on its banks; proudly rode Leices- 
n*^^h>^ ^ side, who, Scott says, " glittered, like a golden image, 
/g, ^ ^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ of gold.** 

^^s /•'^ ^ ^^ ^^ where the long bridge extended from the Gal- 

nzto <&^'i^*^^^ *^ Mortimer's Tower, which the story tells us 

Pas ' "^ ^^ ^^ ^^^ y^ith the torches. A mass of crumbling 

Fan/ "^ al^ tiliat remains of the two towers now ; and after 

nr » ^ jyy. -ttx^ <5nd of a gi-eat open space, known as the 

T) ' ^^\\j>-e <^om<^ in sight of the principal ruins of the a 

'^ K^^ iJjX'O'^S^ ^ little gateway, — Leicester's gateway; R. 

wjj^ ^^ ^ on. the porch above it, — and we are in the midst 

pfie^ ^N,* #:ri.r"<3S<J^® ^^^ crumbling walls, half shrouded in their 

tie fN^ ^\. ^3<3fiil xnantle of ivy. Here we find Cassar's Tower, 

^HcK^^^S* t- H^H» Leicester's Buildings, the Strong Tower, 

A ^ ^ fl-»^ jMIorvyn's Tower of the story, the one into which 

•^^Vr«? -# ^w^SL^^^ Amy Robsart was conveyed while waiting for 

^^^^il^ ^^ j^oicester during the festivities of the royal visit. 

IV^ ^ ^^ixti %1b31 was a room of magnificent dimensions, 

lieiai>^^ tiTXXX<3r^^ feet long by fifty broad, and, as one may 

y*. X* ^rrm itid ruins, beautiful in design. One oriel of the 

^ "K^cL %v"in^ows is a beautiful bit of picturesque ruin. 

,' ^fx it; a most superb landscape view is commanded. 

^^ ^*^^^^^oAV-n " The Pleasance,'' the place in the Uttle garden 
lOtt si_:jr^ st-lo which was the scene of Queen Elizabeth's 

uear X>^^ -viritli Amy Robsart, and which still is called by the 
encovi^^ ^TX\o* '^^^ P^^ ^^ *^® castle built by the Earl of 
%m^ ^^ ^^^ 1571, known as Leicester's Buildings, are crum- 
Leiood'*^ flooo-y* and is fiir less durable than some of the other 

^^g\^ vrter ^aUs of Kenilworth Castle encompassed an area 

T^^o acres ; but walls and tower, great hall and oriel, are 

e ^e<^ ^ XTL^^^^^ ^^ ruined masonry, half shrouded in a screen 

* ^ \i^ 3^ giving but a feeble idea of what the castle was 

^ V^** A ays ^^ pride, when graced by Queen Elizabeth and 

;^ \^ -^ and made such a scene of splendor and regal mag- 

\>®^ ^^ ce as to excite even the admiration of the sovereign 


herself. Time has marked the proud castle with its ineffable 
signet, and notwilhstanding the aid of imagination, Kenil- 
worth seems but a mere ghost of the past. 

From Kenilworth Castle we took train for Stratford-on- 
Avon, — the place which no American would think of leav- 
ing England without visiting, — a quiet little English town, 
but whose inns have yearly visitors fi'om half the nations of 
the civilized world, pilgrims to this shrine of genius, the birth- 
place of him who wrote " not for a day, but all time." A quaint , 
old-fashioned place is Stratford, with here and there a house 
that might have been in existence during the poet's time; 
indeed, many were, for I halted opposite the grammar school, 
which was founded by Henry FV., and in which WUl 
Shakespeare studied and was birched ; the boys were out to 
play in the little square close, or court yard, and as I entered 
through the squat, low doorway, which, like many of these 
old buildings in England, seems compressed or shrunk with 
age, I was suiTOunded by the whole troup of successors of 
Shakespeare, the gates closed, and my deliverance only pur- 
chased by payment of six-pence. 

That antique relic of the past, the poet's birthplace, which 
we at once recognize from the numerous pictures we have 
seen of it, I stood before with a feeling akin to that of ven- 
eration — something like that which must fill the mind of a 
pilgrim who has travelled a weary journey to visit the shrine 
of some celebrated saint. 

It is an odd, and old-fashioned mass of wood and plaster. 
The very means that have been taken to preserve it seem 
almost a sacrilege, the fresh paint upon the wood-work out- 
side, that shone in the spring sunlight, the new braces, plas- 
ter and repairs here and there, give the old building the air 
of an old man, an octogenarian, say, who had discarded Lis 
old-time rags and tatters for a suit of new cloth cut in old 
style ; but something must, of course, be done to preserve the 
structure from crumbling into the dust beneath the inexo- 
rable hand of time, albeit it was of substantial oak, filled in 
with plaster, but has undergone many " improvements " since 
the poet's time. 


, . ^^^ A room we visit in the hous^ is the kitchen with its 

^ Sof^ ^imncy^ the kitchen in which John Shakespeare and 

^y. ^ 4^ VVill so often sat, where he watched the blazing logs, 

y ^^cf ^ned to strange legends of village gossips, or stories 

y^ ^ ^ drones, or narratives of field and flood, and fed his 

8b L Is^^^S^^^^^^^^ ^ ^^ ^^ ^'lih^ that food which gave such 

coi ^^J^fe to it in after years. Here was a big arm-chair — ' 

^ . ^A V>eax"o's chair, of course, as there was in 1820, when our 

rn y ^ ^^raaxx TVashington Ining visi ted the place ; but inasmuch 


r\ \-ea^ cliair was purchased by the Princess Czartoiyska 
'^l^^^ oi^^^ ounnot with a knowledge of this fact feel very 

^'tv^iastio over this. 
poet Y^V^ fclj-O kitchen we ascend into the room in which the 

pW ^V^ V>oxT^ ^ ^^^' rwdie apartment, with huge beams and 

anj^ ^^ J ^v'ixll^' and those walls one mosaic mass of pencilled 
A ^^>^ m.^^ ni3.<3 inscriptions of visitors to this shrine of genius. 
. :w^- 1 t> &Ty^^^ houra in .deciphering names, inscriptions, 
1^^^^*=^ x^tB-O^"^®™^®' &C'» that are thickly written upon eveiy 
8<lll?\^^^^\ ^ix ^^^ space, in every style of chirography and in 
eYet>>^^^ c^xxi^S^ • ®^®^ ^^ panes of glass in the windows have 
HQ| '•^'^ *r>cl l>^* ^^® scratched all over with autographs by 

A ^^^^ Txcl- r'ings of visitors ; and among these signatures I 
^^^^ f XValter Scott. At the side of the fireplace in 

^^*^^ ^^ ^Q -tlie well-known actor's pillar, a jamb of the fire- 
thi& ^^^y- Icly covered with the autographs of actors who have 
placi<3 Vfcer^ 9 among the names I noticed the signatures of 
mX^<^^^ -y^^ixn-i Edmund Kean, and G. V. Brooke, Visitors 
ChsLX*!-^ ^vr»i^^^^ ^^^ ^^ write upon any portion of the build- 
arc ri ^^ -T j;vfc always closely accompanied by a gvide, in order 
i^g, 1* -oorti^^ of it may be cut and carried away by relic- 

\\wti^^ ^^isxtors' book which is kept here is a literary as well 

^^ii\> vit.og^**'^P^^c curiosity ; it was a matter of regret to me 

o> «^^^ -< lia^ ^^ly t™^ ^^ ^^^ ^ver a few of the pages of its 

^*a^» j^ volumes filled with the writing of all classes, from 

JJ^^^ ^Q peasant, and in every language and character, even 

-o^^ of Turkish, Hebrew, and Chinese. The following, I 

^? ir "^'as from the pen of Prince Lucien : — 


'^ The eye of genius glistens to admiro 
How memory hails the soul of Siiakcspeare's lyre. 
One tear I'll shed to form a crystal shrine 
For all tliat's grand, immortal, and divine." 

And the following were furnished mo as productions, the first 
of Washington Irving, and the second of Hackett, the well- 
known comedian, and best living representative of Falstaff: — 

**0f mighty Shakespeare's birth the room we see; 
The where he died in vain to find we try ; 
Useless the search, for nil immortal he, 
And those who are immortal never die." 

'' Shakespeare, thy name revered is no less 
By us who often reckon, sometimes guess. 
Though England claims the glory of thy birth, 
None more appreciate thy page's worth, 
None more admire thy scenes well acted o'er. 
Than we of states unborn in ancient lore." 

The room in which the poet was bom remains very nearly 
in its original state, and, save a table, an ancient chair or two, 
and a bust of Shakespeare, is without furniture ; but another 
upper room is devoted to the exhibition of a variety of inter- 
esting relics and mementos. Not the least interesting of 
these was the rude school desk, at which Master Will conned 
his lessons at the gi'ammar school. A sadly-battered affair it 
was, with the little lid in the middle raised by rude leather 
hinges, and the whole of it hacked and cut in true school-boy 
style. Be it Shakespeare's desk or not, we were happy in the 
belief that it was, and sat down at it, thinking of the time 
when the young varlet crept "like a snail unwillingly to 
school," and }onged for a release from its imprisonment, to 
bathe in the cool Avon's rippling waters, or start off on a dis- 
tant ramble with his schoolmates to Sir Thomas Lucy's oak 
groves and green meadows. 
^ext we came to the old siffn of " The Falcon," 'which 
. '"& over the hostelrie of that name at Bedford, seven 
dr^'^t ^^^^ Stratford, where Shakespeare and his associates 
^^ too deeply, as the story goes, which Washington Irving 


^^pio^ Vices in his charming sketch of Stratford-on-Avon in 
^^^ Slsietch Book. Here is Shakespeare's jug, from which 
^u."vx^ OaiTick sipped wine at the Shakespeare Jubilee, held 
Vn 'VT &8 ; an ancient chair from the Falcon Inn, called Shake- 
»peai"e^s Chair, and said to have^been the one in which he sat 
iN^\ieii he held his club meetings there ; Shakespeare's gold 
signet-ring, with the initials W. S., enclosed in a true-lovei*'8 
knot. Among the interesting docimients were a letter from 
"Richard Quyney to Shakespeare, asking for a loan of thirty 
pounds, which is said to be the only letter addressed to Shake- 
speare known to exist; a " conveyance,'* dated October 15, 
1579, from " John Shackspere and Mary his wyeffc " (Shake- 
speare's parents) " to Robt. Webbe, of their moitye of 2 mes- 
suages or tenements in Snitterfield;" an original grant of four 
yard lands, in Stratford fields, of William and John Combe to 
Shakespeare, in 1602 ; a deed with the autograph of Gilbert 
Shakespeare, brother of the poet, 1609 ; a declaration in an 
action in court of Shakespeare v. Philip Rogers, to recover a 
bill for malt sold by Shakespeare, 1604, 

Then there were numerous engi-avings and etchings of various 
• old objects of interest in and about Stratford, various portraits 
of the poet, eighteen sketches, illustrating the songs and ballads 
of Shakespeare, done by the members of the Etching Club, and 
presented by them to this collection. Among the portraits is 
one copied in crayon from the Chandos portrait, said to have 
been painted when Shakespeare was about forty-three, and 
one of the best portraits extant — an autographic document, 
beaiing the signature of Sir Thomas Lucy, the original Justice 
Shallow, owner of the neighboring estate of Charlecote, upon 
which Shakespeare was arrested for deer-stpaling. These, 
and other curious relics connected with the history of tLe 
poet, were tr> ir, possessed of so much interest that we quito 
wore out the patience of the good dame who acted as custo- 
dian, and she was relieved by her daughter, who was put in 
smiling good humor by our purchase of stereoscopic views at 
a shilling each, which can be had in 'London at six-pence, and 
chatted away merrily till we bade farewell to the poet's birth 


place, and started off adown tho pleasant village street foi 
the little church npon the banks of the River Avon, whicli is 
his last resting-place. 

However sentimental, poetical, or imaginative one may be. 


v»rxv>. \>a.xilt8 of the Avon, and the old sexton escorted us through 

^^ arvonue of trees to its gieat Gothic door, which he un- 

Voete^, and we were soon hefore the ^miliar monument, 

"wYiicbL is in a niche in the chancel. It is the well-known, half- 

lengtli figure, above which is his coat of arms, sm-mounted by 

a skull, and upon either side figures of Cupid, one holding an 

inverted torch, and the other a skull and a spade. Beneatli 

the cushion, upon which the poet is represented as writing, is 

this iuscriptibn : — 

**Jydicio Pylivm Gbnio Socratem Abtb Mabomem Terba Tegit 


*^ Stay, passenger; who goest thou by so fast? 
Read, if thou canst, whom envious death has plast 
Within this monument : Shakespeare, with whome 
Qvicke natrre died ; whose name doth deck ys tombe 
Far more than cost ; sith all yt he hath writt 
Leaves living art but page to serve his witt. 

" Obiit Ano Doi, 1616. 
Mtsitis 53, Die 23 Ap." 

This half-length figure, we are told, was originally painted 
after nature, the eyes being hazel, and the hair and beard 
auburn, the dress a scarlet doublet, slashed on the breast, over 
which was a loose, sleeveless black gown ; but in 1793 it was 
painted all over white. 

In front of the altar-rails, upon the second step leading to 
the altar, are the gravestones (marble slabs) of tte Shake- 
speare family, among them a slab marking the resting-place 
of his wife, Anne (Anne Hathaway) ; and the inscription tells 
us that 

" Here lyeth interred the body of Anne, 
wife of William Shakspeare, who depted this life the 
6th day of Avg : 1623, being of the age of 67 years." 

Another slab marks the grave of Thomas Nash, who mar- 
ried the only daughter of the poet's daughter Susanna, one that 
of her father. Dr. John Hall, and another that of Susanna her- 
self; the slab bearing the poet's celebrated epitaph is, of course, 
that which most holds the attention of the visitor, and as he 

124 shakespeabe's bafeguabd. 

reads the inscription wbich has proved sucli a safeguard to 
the remains of its author, he cannot help feeling something of 
awe the epitaph is so threatening, so almost like a malediction. 

'* Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbeare 
To digg tbc dust encloased heare : 
Blcste be ye man yt spares thes stones, 
And cursed be he yt moves my bones.*' 

And it is doubtless the unwillingness to brave Shakespeare's 
curse that has prevented the removal of the poet's remains 
to Westminster Abbey, and the fear of it that will make the 
little church, in the pleasant little town of Stratford, his last 
resting-place. I could not help noticing, while standing 
beside the slab that marked the poet's grave, how that par- 
ticular slab had been respected by the thousands of feet that 
had made their pilgrimage to the place ; for w^hile the neigh- 
boring slabs and pavement were worn from the fiiction of 
many feet, this was comparatively fresh and rough as when 
first laid down, no one caring to trample upon the grave of 
Shakespeare, especially after having read' the poet's invoca 

tion, — 

" Bleste be ye man yt spares thcs stones ; " 

and so with uncovered head and reverential air he passes 
around it and not over it, although no rail or guard bars his 
steps, — that one line of magic power a more effectual bar 
than human hand could now place there. 

The little shops in the quaint little streets of Stratford, all 
make the most of that wiiich has made their town famous ; 
and busts of Shakespeare, pictures, carvings, guide-bookg, 
engravings, and all sorts of mementos to attract the atten- 
tion of visitors, are displayed in their windows. A china 
ware store had Shakespeare plates and dishes, with pictorial 
representations of the poet's birthplace, Stratford church, &c., 
upon them, so that those inclined could have Shakespeare 
plates from sixpence to three shillings each, illustrating their 
visit here. 

How often I had read of the old feudal barons of Warwick, 



'^^^ir warlike deeds, which cocupy so conspicuous a place 

j^>^tp^^^^ history! There were the old Saxon earls, and, 

A ^^ ^^ Vinous of all, the celebrated Guy, that every school-boy 

^T^'^ci ^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^ redoubtable warrior in the time of 

X ^4m tliG Great, and doubtless has in history grown in 

gj ^ w as J^i^ deeds have in wonder, for he is stated to have 

^ ^*W^ Saxon giant nine feet high, killed a Saracen giant in 

J '^\ comt>at, slain a wild boar, a green dragon, and an 

*^^«\t tlx^ T>orter's lodge, at the castle, as all tourists do (and 
i\v nV -^ ^^ ^ '^ 11 tourists do^. a bier'rib of somethinff. — it would 

O^N^^jj^ dun cow, although why killing a cow was any evi- 
T y^ ^f» ^, -v^arrior's prowess I am unable to state. But we 

!^^\^\*> ifc tx& ^^ tourists do), a big rib of something, — it would 
t^K^ £c>T' sx- Avhale or elephant, — which we were told was the 
lo^^^s^ tVm€5 co^^^ aforesaid; also some of the bones of the boar; 
of ^V^r, XX I ixsked the old dame, who showed the relics, if any 
w ^^.^^ soul^^ ^^ *^® dragon, or if any of his teeth, had been 
^^ ^ cl »1*^ said,— 

^ ^^1- A^^^S^^ story mightn't be true; but 'ere we ^ave the 
'^^'^^ , . «; Vfc« txTx<i the boar's bones, and there's no disputin' them^ 

^^ ^ cli^^* dispute them, nor the great tilting-pole, breast- 

j^ ^^ j^ fragments of armor said to have belonged to Guy, 

^'^^^ VkTX^^^ porridge-pot made of bronze or bell-metal, which 

^**-^"' oxxxot.imes use on great occasions to brew an unmense 
^^£» pxinch in. Guy's sword, which I took an experi- 


jox"**-"- - s^vixig of, required an exercise of some strength, and 
iD^e^r> T^ji.rK^s, to make it describe a circle above my head, and 
\)Ot,l^ Vi$i.v o been a trenchant blade in the hands of one able to 
tavi^ ^ ^^ o-ffcctively. 

vVe^^ ^ ^ G^y ^^® ^y ^^ means the only staunch warrior of the 

Cy ^^ Warwick. There was one who died in the Holy 

"5.0.^ V- ^^ 1184; another, who stood by King John in all his 

\^^Si^ -^ith the barons ; another, who was captured in his castle; 

^^"^Y^gy^ Guy de Beauchamp, who fought for the king bravely 

'ii^^ - ^5 Toattle of Falkirk ; and another, who, under the Black 

V^ '^ce, 1®^ *^® van of the English army at Cressy, and 


fought bravely at Poictiera, till his galled hand refused to 
grasp his battle-axe, and who went over to France and saved 
a suffering English army at Calais in 1369, and many others, 
who ha^e left the impress of their deeds upon the pages of 

The old town of Warwick dates its foundation about A. D. 
50, and its castle in 916. Staying at the little old-fashioned 
English inn, the Warwick Arms, two of us had to dine in 
solemn state alone in a private room, the modem style of a 
table d'hote not being introduced in that establishment, which, 
although well ordered, scrupulously neat and comfortable, 
nevertheless, in furniture and general appearance, reminded 
one of the style of thirty years ago. 

Of course the lion of Wai-wick is the castle, and to that 
old stronghold we wend our way. The entrance is through 
a large gateway, and we pass up through a roadway or ap- 
proach to the castle, which is cut through the solid rock for a 
hundred yards or more, and emerging into the open space, 
come suddenly in view of the walls and magnificent round 
cylindrical towers. 

First there is Guy's Tower, with its walls ten feet thick, its 
base thirty feet in diameter, and rising to a height of one 
hundred and twenty-eight feet ; Cajsar's Tower, built in the 
time of the Norman conquest, eight hundred years old, still 
strong and in good preservation, and between these two the 
strong castle walls, of the same description that appear in all 
pictures of old castles, with the spaces for bowmen and other 
defenders ; towers, arched gateways, portcullis, double walls, 
and disused moat attest the former strength of this noted 

As the visitor passes through the gate of the great walls, 
and gets, as it were, into the interior of the enclosure, with 
the embattled walls, the turrets and towers on eveiy side of 
him, he sees that the castle is a tremendous one, and its oc- 
cupant, when it was in its prime, might have exclaimed with 
better reason than Macbeth, ^ Our castle's strength will laugh 
a siege to scorn." 



t^ scene from the interior is at once grand and romantic, 

^Oh ^^^^®t turf and fine old trees in the spacious arca of the 

toS^yard harmonize well with the time-browned, ivy-clad 

^^ . ^^ and battlements, and a ramble upon the broad walk 

^^0 ^^^^s around the latter is fraught with interest. We 

^0^ ^ in the little sheltered nooks, from which the cross-bow- 

>>^^ tin A arquebusiers discharged their weapons ; we looked 

>> ^^K^ irt'to "the grass-gi-own moat, climbed to the top of Guy'g 

>J ^h ^j- an^ s^^ the charming landscape; went below CaBsar'a 

-^^^ br in^^ ^^^ dismal dungeons where prisoners were con- 

|/)^ \i fiixct restrained by an inner grating from even reaching 

I %lv ^jj^21 loophole that gave them their scanty supply of 

^5^1 A|. orxcl sxIt; and here we saw where some poor fellow had 

^^ ^ 'otisl y <^^t in the rock, as near the light as he could, the 

1^ ^^ I of" l^is weary confinement of yeai-s, with a motto at- 

_^ti\ -m £^3_ cj^iaaint style of spelling ; and finally, after visiting 

^^t\ A& -to^^v^Gi's, and walls, went into the great castle proper, 

^t\ VeT>^ ^^^ repair, elegantly furnished and rich in pictures, 

^^ ^ ^xX'TK^^y tapestry, and antiquities. 

^^^. ^fix"St> apartment we entered was the entrance, or Great 

Y^ '3^ xvfei^^ ^^^^ hung with elegant armor of ^11 ages, of rare 

^^^Q,^ ' ivrlovis patterns : the walls of this noble hall, which is 

^Xx^ t.w"0 feet by forty, are wainscoted with fine old oak, 

gt >|^^ wxi^^ Tvith age, and in the Gothic roofing are carved 

^T^esxT si^^ Ragged Staff of Robert Dudley's crest ; also, the 

et sti^^ shields of the successive earls from the year 

^/^ j^rriong the curiosities here were numerous specimens 

^^^^ ^^j^ix^\x\oned fire-arms, and one curious old-fashioned re- 

^^ ^\x\^r pistol, made two hundred yeai*s before Colt's pistols 

^ ^^ ^ \t\vcnted, and which I was assured the American re- 

'**^^^^^\Y visited before he perfected the weapon that bears 

'^ ^atiie. The same story, however, was afterwards told me 

^ Tit an old revolver in the Tower of London, and I think 


iflO i^ another place in England, and the exliibitors seemed 
>n think Colonel Colt had only copied an old English affair 
>hat they had thrown aside : however, this did not ruffle my 
national pride to any great degree, inasmuch as I ascert lined 


that tibout all leading American inventions of any importance 
are regarded by these complacent Britons as having had their 
origin in their " tight little island." There were the English 
steel cross-bows, which must have projected their bolts with 
tremendous forces; splendid Andrea Ferrara rapiers, weapons 
three hundred years old, and older, of exquisite temper and 
the most beautiful and intricate workmanship, inlaid with 
gold and silver, and the hilt and scabbards of elegant steel 
filigree work. Among the curious relics was Cromwell's 
helmet, the annor worn by the Marquis Montrose when he 
led the rebellion, Prince Rupert's armor, a gun from the 
battle-field of Marston Moor, a quilted armor jacket of King 
John's soldiers; magnificent antlered stags' heads are also 
suspended from the walls, while from the centre of the hall 
one can see at a single glance through the whole of the grand 
suite of apartments, a straight line of three hundred and 
thirty feet. From the great Gothic windows you look down 
below, one himdred and twenty feet distant, to the River Avon, 
and over an unrivalled picturesque landscape view — another 
evidence that those old castle-builders had an eye to the 
beautiful as well as the substantial. Looking from this great 
hall to the end of a passage, we saw Vandyke's celebrated 
picture of Charles I. on horseback, with baton in hand, one 
end resting upon his thigh. I had seen copies of it a score 
of times, but the life-like appearance of the original made me 
iDclined to believe in the truth of the story that Sir Joshua 
Reynolds once offered five hundred guineas for it. Vandyke 
appears to have been a favorite with the earl, as there are 
many of his pictures in the ravishing collection that adorns 
the apartments of the castle. 

The apartments of the castle are all furnished in exquisite 
taste, some with rich antique furniture, harmonizing with the 
rare antiques, vases, cabinets, bronzes, and china that is 
scattered through them in rich profusion, and to attempt to 
give a detailed description would require the space of a vol- 
ume. The paintings, however, cannot fail to attract the at- 
tention, although the time allowed to look at them is little 


-J. ^ or ag-gravation. There is a Dutch Burgomaster, bj 

^^brarx^t; ; the Wife of Snyder, by Vandyke, a bcautifu 

P^nUng . Sx>iiiola, by Rubens; the Family of Charles I., b) 

V andyke ; ClJir ce, by Guido ; A Lady, by Sir Peter Lely ; a G'm 

^Wing BrLl>l3le8, by Murillo; a magnificently executed full 

^gth picture of Ignatius Loyola, founder of the Jesuits. 

^^g'mally painted by Rubens for the Jesuits' College of Ant 

*^^rp, aii<i so striking as to exact exclamations of admiration 

®^eii from, tlxose inexperienced in art. One lovely little room, 

^Ued llio 13oudoir, is perfectly studded with rare works of 

^ri — "Hcniry VIII. by Hans Holbein, Barbara Villiers by 

^^^y, "Boax" Hunt by Rubens, A Saint by Andrea del Sarto, 

*^a4 Scene by Teniers, Landscape by Salvator Rosa. Just 

%^^ '^^lal a, least for the lover of art even these comparatively 

fev -works of the great masters afford ; and the walls of the 

Tooma vrei-c crowded with them, the above being only a few 

Be\ccle<i at random, as an indication of the priceless value of 

the collection. 

In the Red Drawing-room we saw a grand Venetian mirror 
in its curious and rich old frame, a rare cabinet of tortoise 
shell and ivory, buhl tables of great richness, and a beautiful 
table that once belonged to Marie Antoinette, besides ancient 
bronzes, Etruscan vases, Ac. In the Cedar Drawing-room 
stood Hiram Powers^s bust of Proserpine, and superb tables 
bearing rare vases and specimens of wonderful enamelled 
work, and a species of singular china and glass ware, in which 
raised metal figures appeared upon the surface, made by float- 
ing the copper and other metal upon glass — now a lost art. 
An elegant dish of this description was shown to us, said to 
be worth over a thousand pounds — a costly piece of plate, 

We now come to the Gilt Drawing-room, so called because 
the walls and ceiling are divided off into panels, richly gilt. 
The walls of this room are glorious with the works of great 
artists — Vandyke, Murillo, Rubens, Sir Peter Lely. Rich 
furniture, and a wonderful Venetian table, known as the 
"Grimani Table," of elegant mosaic work, also adorn the 



apartment. In an old-fashioned square room, known as tho 
State Bedroom, is the bed and fiimitnre of crimson velvet 
thai formerly belonged to Queen Anne. Here are the table 
that she used, and hei: huge old travelling trunks, adorned 
with brass-headed nails, with which her initials are wrought 
upon the lid, while above the great mantel is a full-length 
portrait of Anne, in a rich brocade dress, wearing the collar 
i)f the Order of the Garter, painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller. 

The great dining-hall, besides some fine pictures and an- 
: cjiit Roman busts, contains a remarkable piece of modem 
workmanship, which is known as the " Kenilworth Buffet,*' 
and which we should denominate a large sideboard. It is an 
elaborate and magnificent specimen of wood-carving, and was 
manufactured by Cookes & Son, of Warwick, and exhibited 
in the great exhibition of 1851. The wood from which it was 
wrought was an oak tree which grew on the Kenilworth 
estate, and which, from its great age, is supposed to have been 
standing when Queen Elizabeth made her celebrated visit to 
the castle. Carvings upon it represent tjie entry of Queen 
Elizabeth, surrounded by her train, Elizabeth's meeting with 
Amy Robsart in the grotto, the interview between the queen 
and Leicester, and other scenes from Scott's novel of Kenil- 
worth ; also carved figures of the great men of the time — 
Sidney, Raleigh, Shakespeare, and Drake, and the arms of the 
Leicester family, and the crest, now getting familiar, of the 
Bear and Ragged Stafl^ with other details, such as water- 
flowers, dolphins, &c. This sideboard was presented by the 
town and county of Warwick to the present earl on his wed- 
ding day. 

But we must not linger too long in these interesting halls 
of the old feudal barons, or before their rich treasures of art. 
Time is not even given one to sit, and study, and drink in, as 
it were, the wondrous beauty and exquisite finish of the artis- 
tic gems on their walls ; so we take a parting glance at Te- 
nier's Guard-room, the Duchess of Parma by Paul Veronese, 
Murillo's Court Jester, a splendidly-executed picture of 
Leicester by Sir Anthony Moore, the Card-players by Tcniers, 


the Flight into Egypt by Rubens, a magnificent marble bust, 
by Chan trey, of Edward the Black Prince, in which the noble- 
ness and generosity of that brave warrior were represented so 
strikingly as to make you almost raise your hat to it in pass- 
ing. Before leaving we were shown the old " warder's horn," 
with the bronze chain by which it was in old times suspended 
at the outer gate of the castle; and as I grasped it, and es- 
sayed in vain to extract a note beyond an exhausted sort of 
groan from its bronze mouth, I remembered the many stories 
in which a warder's horn figures, in poem, romance, histor)*^, 
and fable. I think even Jack the Giant-killer blew one at 
the castle gate of one of his huge adversaries. An inscrip- 
tion on the Warwick horn gives the date of 1698. 

Leaving the apartments of the castle, and passing through 
a portcullis in one of the walls, and over a bridge thrown 
across the moat, we proceeded to the green-house, rich in rare 
flowers and plants, and in the centre of whiv.a stands the far- 
famed Warwick Vase. The shape of this vase is familiar to 
all from the innumerable copies of it that have been made. 
It is of pure white marble, executed after pure Grecian de- 
sign, and is one of the finest specimens of ancient sculpture 
in existence. While looking upon its exquisite proportions 
and beautiful design, we can hardly realize that, compared 
with it in years, old Warwick Castle itself is a modem struc- 
ture. The description of it states the well-known fact that it 
was found at the bottom of a lake near Tivoli, by Sir William 
Hamilton, then ambassador at the court of Naples, from 
whom it was obtained by the Earl of Warwi6k. Its shape is 
circular, and its capacity one hundred and thirty-six gallons. 
Its two large handles are formed of interwoven vine-branches, 
from which the tendinis, leaves, and clustering grapes spread 
around the upper margin. The middle of the body is en- 
folded by a panther skin, with head and claws elegantly cut 
and finished. Above are the heads of satyrs, bound with 
wreaths of ivy, the vine-clad spear of Bacchus, and the \^ ell- 
known crooked staff of the Augurs. 
• Leaving the depository of the vase, we saimtered out bo- 


neath the shade of the great trees, and looked across the vel- 
vet lawn to the gentle Avon flowing in the distance, and went 
on till we gained a charming view of the river front of the 
castle, with its towers and old miU, the rained arches of an 
old bridge, and an English church tower rising in the distance, 
forming one of those pictures which must be such excellent 
capital for the landscape painter. On the banks of the Avon, 
and in the park of the castle, we were shown some of the dark 
old cedars of Lebanon, brought home, or grown from those 
brought home, from the Holy Land by the Warwick and his. 
retainers who wielded their swords there against the infidel. 

Some of the quiet old streets of Warwick seemed, from 
their deserted appearance, to be almost uninhabited, were it 
not for here and there a little shop, and the general tidy, 
swept-up appearance of everything. A somnolent, quaint, 
aristocratic old air seemed to hang over them, and I seemed 
transported to some of those quiet old streets at the North 
End, in Boston, or Salem of thirty years ago, which were 
then untouched by the advance of trade, and sacred to old 
residents, old families, whose stone door-stoops were spot- 
lessly clean, whose brass door-knobs and name-plates shone 
like polished gold, and whose neat muslin curtains at the little 
front windows were fresh, airy, and white as the down of a 

I stopped at a little shop in Warwick to make a purchase, 
and the swing of the door agitated a bell that was attached 
to it, and brought out, from a little sombre back parlor, the 
old lady, in a clean white cap, who waited upon occasional 
customers that straggled in as I did. How staid, and quaint, 
and curious these stand-still old English towns, clinging to 
their customs half a century old, seem to us restless, uneasy, 
and progressive Yankees ! 

Our next ramble was down one of these quiet old streets 
to the ancient uospital, founded by Robert Dudley, Earl of 
Leicester, in 1671, for a "master and twelve brethren," the 
brethren to be either deserving retainers of the earl's family, or 
those who had been wounded under the conduct of Leicester 


or his heirs. These "brethren" are now appointed from 
Warwick and Gloucester, and have an allowance of eighty 
pounds, besides the privilege of the house. The edific<i is 
a truly interesting building, and is one of the very few that 
escaped a general conflagration of the town of Warwick in 
1694, and is at this time one of the most perfect specimens of 
the half-timber edifices which exist in the country. Quaint 
and curious it looks indeed, massive in structure, brown with 
age, a. wealth of useless lumber about it, high-pointed ovrei- 
hanging gables, rough carvings along the first story, a broad, 
low archway of an entrance, the oak trimmings hardened like 
iron, and above the porch the crest of the Bear and Ragged 
Staff, the initials R. L., and the date 1571. 

And only to think of the changes that three hundred years 
have wrought in the style of architecture, as well as comfort 
and convenience in dwelling-houses, or in structures like this ! 
We were almost inclined to laugh at the variegated carving 
of the timber-work upon the front of this odd reUc of the past, 
as suggestive of a sign of an American barber's shop, but 
which, in its day, was doubtless considered elegant and 

It stands a trifle raised above the street, upon a sort of 
platform, and the sidewalk of the street itself here passes un- 
der the remains of an old tower, built in the time of Richard 
n., and said to have been on the line of walls of defence of 
the city. The hinges, on which the great gate of this part of 
the fortification were hung, are still visible, and pointed out 
to visitors. 

Let us enter Leicester's magnificent hospital, an ostenta- 
tious charity in 1571 ; but how squat, odd, and old-fashioned 
v\id the low-ceiled little rooms look now ! how odd the pas- 
sages were formed ! what quaint, curious old windows ! how 
rich the old wood-work looked, saturated with the breath of 
time ! and here was the great kitchen, with its big fireplace — 
the kitchen where a mug of beer a day, I think, is served, and 
where the " brethren " are allowed to smoke their long, clay 
pipes; a row of their beer tankards (what a national bev* 

184 leicesteb's hospital. 

eragc beer is in Eogland !) glittered on the dresser. Here 
also hung the rariform which the " brethren '* are obliged by 
statute always to wear when they go out, which consists of a 
handsome blue broadcloth gown, with a silver badge of a 
Bear and Ragged Staff suspended on the left sleeve behind. 
These badges, now in use, are the identical ones that were 
worn by the first brethren appointed by Lord Leicester, and 
the names of the original wearers, and the date, 1571, are en- 
graved on the back of each ; one only of these badges was 
ever lost, and that about twenty-five years ago, when it cost 
five guineas to replace it. In what was once the great hall is 
a tablet, stating that King James I. was once sumptuously 
entertained there by Sir Fulke Greville, and no doubt had his 
inordinate vanity flattered, as his courtiers were wont to do, 
and his gluttonous appetite satisfied. Sitting in the very 
chair he occupied when there, I did not feel that it was much 
honor to occupy the seat of such a learned simpleton as 
Elizabeth's successor proved to be. 

Very interesting relics were the two little ancient pieces of 
embroidery preserved here, which were wrought by the fair 
fingers of the ill-fated Amy Robsart, wife of Leicester ; one 
a fi'agment of satin, with the everlasting Bear and Staff 
wrought upon it, and the other a sort of sampler, the only 
authentic relic of anything belonging to this unhappy lady 
known to exist. 

At the rear of the hospital is a fine old kitchen garden, in 
which the brethren each have a little portion set apart to cul- 
tivate themselves, and where they can also enjoy a quiet 
smoke and a fine view at the same time ; and this hospital is 
the most enduring monument that Leicester has left behind 
him : his once magnificent abode at Kenilworth is but a heap 
of ruins, and the proud estate, a property of over twenty 
miles in circumference, wrested from him by the government 
of his time, never descended to his family. Mentioning mon- 
uments to Leicester, however, reminds us of the pretentious 
one erected to him in the chapel of St. Mary's Church, which 
we visited, in Warwick, knowTi as the Beauchamp Chapel, and 


which all i esidents of these parts denominate the " Becchum " 
Chapel — named from the first Earl of Warwick of the Nor- 
man line, the founder (Beau champ). 

The chapel ' is an elegant stnicture, the interior being 
fifty-eight feet long, twenty-five wide, and thirty-two high. 
Over the doorway, on entering, we see the arms of Beau- 
champ, supported on each side by sculptures of the Bear, 
Ragged Stafl^ oak leaves, &c. The fine old time-blackened 
s(iats of oak are richly and elaborately carved, and above, in 
tlie groined .roo^ are carved shields, bearing the quarterings 
of the Earls of Warwick ; but the great object of interest is the 
tomb of the great Earl of Warwick, which this splendid 
chapel was built to enshrine. It is a large, square, marble 
structure, situated in the centre of the building, elegantly and 
elaborately carved with ornamental work, and containing, in 
niches, fourteen figures of lords and ladies, designed to repre- 
sent relatives of the deceased, while running around the edge, 
cut into brass, is the inscription, in Old English characters. 
Upon the top of this tomb lies a full-length bronze or brass effigy 
of the great earl, sheathed in full suit of aiinor, — breastplate, 
ciiishcs, gi'caves, &c., — complete in all its details, and finished 
even to the straps and fastenings ; the figure is not attached, 
but laid upon the monument, and its back is finished as per- 
fectly as the front in all its equipments and correctness, of 
detail. The head, which is uncovered, rests upon the helmet, 
and the feet of the great metal figure upon a bear and a 
griffin. Above this recumbent figure is a sort of rail-work of 
curved strips and thick transverae rods of brass, over which, 
in old times, hung a pall, or curtain, to shield this wondrous 
effigy from the dust ; and a mar\'el of artistic work it is, one 
of the finest works of the kind of the middle ages hi exist- 
ence, for the earl died in 1439; and another curious relic 
must be the original agreement or contract for its construction, 
which; I was told, is still in existence. 

Robert Dudley, Queen Elizabeth's Leicester, has an elabo- 
I'alely-executed monument in the chapel, consisting of a sort 
of altar-tomb, beneath a canopy supported by Corinthian 


pillars. Upon the tomb are recumbent effigies of Leicestiir 
and his Countess Lettice, while an inscription sets forth the 
many titles of the deceased, and concludes that, " his most 
sorrowful wife, LaBtitia, through a sense of conjugal love and 
fidelity^ hath put up this monument to the best and dearest 
of JiushandsP 

I have heard of the expression " lying like a tombstone," 
before I ever saw Robert Dudley's monument ; but it seemed 
now that I must be before the very one from whence the 
adage was derived, unless all of that which is received by 
the present generation as the authentic history of this man 
and the age in which he lived be thrown aside as a worthless 
fable. Indeed, there were those of the generation fifty years 
ago who felt an equal contempt at this endeavor to send a lie 
down to posterity, for in an odd old, well-thumbed volume of 
a History of the Town of Warwick, published in 1815, which 
I found lying in one of the window-seats of the Warwick 
Arms, where I seated myself to wait for dinner on my return, 
I found this passage, which is historical truth and justice 
concentrated into such a small compass, that I transferred it 
at once into my note-book. Having refeiTcd to the Earl of 
Leicester's (Robert Dudley's) monument, the writer goes on 
as follows: — 

^ Under the arch of this gi-and monument is placed a Latin 
inscription, which proclaims the honors bestowed with pro- 
fusion, but without discernment, upon the royal favorite, who 
owed his future solely to his personal attractions, for of moral 
worth or intellectual ability he had none. Respecting his 
two gieat military employments, here so powerfully set forth, 
prudence might have recommended silence, since on one 
occasion he acquired no glory, as he had no opportunity, 
and on the other the opportunity he had he lost, and returned 
home covered with deep and deserved disgrace. That he 
should be celebrated, even on a tomb, for conjugal afiection 
and fidelity, must be thought still more remarkable by those 
who recollect that, according to every appearance of proba- 
bility, ho poisoned his first wife, disowned his s 3cond, dishonored 


his thinl before he married her, and, in order to marry her, 
murdered her former husband. To all this it may be added, 
that his only surviving son, an infant, was a natm'al child, by 
Lady Sheffield. If his widowed countess did really mourn, as 
she here affects, it is believed that into n ) other eye but hers, 
and perhaps that of his infatuated queen, did a single tear 
stray, when, September 4, 1588, he ended a life, of which 
the external splendor, and even the affected piety and ostenta* 
tious charity, wei-e but vain endeavors to conceal or soften the 
black enormity of its guilt and shame." 

In the chapel are monuments* to others of the Wai'wicks, 
including one to Leicester's infant son, who is said to have 
been poisoned by his nurse at three years of age, and who is 
called, on his tomb, "the noble Impe Robert of Dudley," and 
another to Ambrose Dudley, Earl of Warwick, brother to 
Leicester, and honorably distinguished, as a man, for his vir- 
tues, as the other for his crimes. 

We go fi'om Warwick to Oxford by rail ; but I must not 
omit to mention that in one of our excursions not far from 
Warwick, as the train stopped at Rugby junction, the "Mug- 
by junction " that Dickens has described, we visited the re- 
freshment-room, and got some very good sandwiches,' and 
were very well served by the young ladies at the counter ; 
indeed, Dickens's sketch has been- almost as good an advertise- 
ment for the " Mugby sandwiches " as Byron's line, " Thine 
incomparable oil. Macassar," was for Rowland's ruby com- 
pound ; and the young ladies have come to recognize Ameri- 
cans by their invariably purchasing sandwiches, and their 
inquiry, " Where is the boy ? " 

From Warwick, on our way to Oxford, we passed near 
Edgehill, the scene of the first battle of Charles I. against 
his Parliament, and halted a brief period at Banbury, where 
an accommodating English gentleman sought out and sent 
us one of the venders of the noted " Banbuiy cakes," and 
who informed us that the Banbury people actually put up, 
a few years ago, a cro.^s, that is now standing there, from 
the fact that so many travellers stopped in tbo town to 

138 OXFORD. 

see the Banbury Craw mentioned in the rhyme of their 
childhood, — 

'*Riile a cock horso to Banbury Cross 
To see an old woman get on a white horse," — 

who, before it was erected, went away disappointed at not 
seeing what they had set down in their minds was the lead- 
ing feature of the town, thinking that they had, in some way 
or other, been imposed upon by not finding any one in the 
place who knew of it, or cared to show it to them. 

. But we vnil leave the old town of Wai-wick behind us, for 
a place still more interesting to the American tom'ist — a 
city wliich contains one of the oldest and most celebrated 
univei-sities in Europe ; a city where Alfred the Great once 
lived ; which was stoimed by William the Conqueror ; where 
Richard the Lion-hearted was born ; and where, in the reign 
of Bloody JMary, Latimer, Ridley, and Cranmcr were burned 
at the stake; through whose streets the victorious parlia- 
mentary army marched, with drums beating and colors flying, 
after the battle of Naseby — Oxford. 

Oxford, that Hughes's Tom Brown at Oxford has made 
the youngsters of the present day long to see ; Oxford, that 
figures in so many of the English novels ; Oxford, where 
Verdant Green, in the novelj had so many funny experiences; 
Oxford, where the '* Great Tom " — a bell spoken of in story- 
books and nursery rhymes — is ; and a thousand other things 
that have made these celebrated old cities a sort of dream- 
land to us m America, who have longed to see the curious 
relics of the past with which they are crammed, and walk 
amid those scenes, the very descriptions of which till one's 
mind with longings or pleasant anticipations as we hang over 
the printed pages that describe them. 

We rode in our cab to the old Mitre Tavem, and a verv 
old-fashioned place it is. Indeed, to the tourist, one of the 
lions of the place will be the "Mitre." The first thing 
noticeable upon entering the low-linteled front entrance of 
this first-class Oxfoni hotel was a framework of meat-hooks 





^^vhea<i, tilong one side of the ceiling of the whole entranci 
^^dor 5 axnd. upon these were suspended mutton, bee^ game 
Podtry, <feo- ; in fact, a choice display of the larder of th< 
^stabUal\rrxerit. I suppose this is the English " bill of fare,' 
*or they lia,"v e no way here of letting guests know what the; 
^^uhave seiTved at the table, other than through the servan 
^^0 wstitis -upon you; and his assortment, one often finds 
dwindles <ioifvrn to the everlasting " chops," " 'am and heggs,' 
01' *' roast; X>ecf," "mutton," and perhaps "fowls." 

T\ie ooolcing at the Mitre is unexceptionable, as, indeed, i 

is genex-ally in all inns throughout England. The quality oi 

the xaeatis, the bread, the ale, the wines, in fact everything 

^^»ign.e^ fox* the palate at this house is of the purest anc 

\i%^\. equality, and such as any gastronomist will, after testing 

^ecx, cVierish with fond recollections ; but the other accom 

^odations ai-e of the most old-fashioned style. The bote 

Beema to be a collection of old dwellings, with entrances cu 

thTOUgh the walls, judging from the quaint, crooked, darl 

psissages, some scarcely wide enough for two persons to pass 

each other in, and the little low-ceiled rooms, with odd, old 

fashioned furniture, such as we used to see in our grand 

fathers' houses forty years ago — solid mahogany four-posi 

bedsteads, with chintz spreads and curtains ; old black ma 

hogany brass-trimmed bureaus ; wash-stands, with a big hoh 

cut to receive the huge crockery wash-bowl, which held j 

gallon ; feather beds, and old claw-footed chairs. 

This is the solid, old-fashioned comfort (?) an Englishmai 
likes. Furthermore, you have no gas fixtures in your room 
Gas in one's sleeping-room is said by hotel-keepers in Englanc 
to be unhealthy, possibly because it might prevent a regula 
tion in the charge for light which the use of candles affords 
Upon my ringing the bell, and asking the chambermaid wh( 
responded — waitera and bell-boys never "answer a bell' 
here — for a lighter and more airy room than the little, square 
one-windowed, low-ceiled apartment which was assigned me 
I was infoimed that.the said one-windowed box was the sam* 
that Lord Sophted " halways 'ad when he was down U 


Kotwithstanding this astounding infonnation, to the 8ur> 
prise of the servant, I insisted upon a different room, and was 
assigned another apartment, which varied from the first by 
having two/ windows instead of one. The fact that Sir 
Somebody Something, or Lord Nozoo, has occupied a room, 
or praised a brand of wine, or the way a mutton chop was 
cooked, seems to be in England the credit mark that is 
expected to pass it, without question, upon every untitled 
individual who shall thereafter presume to call for it; and 
the look of unmitigated astonishment which the sei^vant will 
bestow upon an " Hamerican " who dares to assert that any 
thing of the kind was not so good as he was accustomed to, 
and he must have better, is positively amusing. Americans 
are, however, beginning to be understood in this respect by 
English hotel-keepera, and are generally put in the best apart- 
ments — and charged the best prices. 

It would be an absurdity, in the limits permissible in a 
series of sketches like these, to attempt a detailed descrip- 
tion of Oxford and its colleges ; for there are more than a 
score of colleges, besides the churches, halls, libraries, divinity 
schools, museums, and other buildings connected with the 
university. There are some rusty old fellows, who hang 
round the hotels, and act as guides to visitors, showing them 
over a route that takes in all the principal colleges, and the 
way to the libraries, museums, &c. One of these walking 
encyclopedists of the city, as he proved to be, became our 
guide, and wo were soon in the midst of those fine old mon- 
uments of the reverence for learning of past ages. Only 
think of visiting a college founded by King Alfred, or 
another whose curious carvings and architecture arc of the 
twelfth century, or another founded by Edward II. in 1326, 
or going into the old quadrangle of All Souls College, 
through the tower gateway built A. D. 1443, or the magnifi- 
cent pile of buildings founded by Cardinal Wolsey, the 
design, massive structure, and ornamentation of which were 
grand for his time, and give one some indication of the ideas 
of that ambitious prelate. 


The collii^e builtlings are in various styles of arcMtecture, 
from the twelfth century down to the present tune, most of 
them being built in form of a hollow square, the centre of 
the square being a large, pleasant grass plot, or quadrangle, 
upon which the students' windows opened. Entrance to 
these interiors or quadrangles is obtained through a Gothic 
or arched gateway, guarded by a porter in charge. The 
windows of the students' rooms were gay with many-colored 
flowers, musical witli singing birds hung up in cages, while 
the interior of some that we glanced into differed but very 
little from those of Harvard University, each being fitted or 
decorated to suit the taste of the occupant. 

In some of the old colleges, the rooms themselves were 
quaint and oddly-shaped as friars' cells ; others large, luxuri- 
ous, and airy. Nearly all were entered through a vestibule, 
and had an outer door of oak, or one painted in imitation of 
oak ; and when this door is closed, the occupant is said to be 
^ sporting his oak," which signifies that he is studying, busily 
engaged, and not at home to any one. There were certain 
quarters also more aristocratic than others, where young lord- 
lings — who were distinguished by the gold in their hat- 
bands from the untitled students — most did congregate. 
The streets and shops of Oxford indicated the composition 
of its population. You meet collegians in gowns and 
trencher caps, snuflfy old professors, with their silk gowns 
flying out behind in the wind, young men in couples, young 
men in stunning outfits, others in natty costumes, others 
artistically got up, tradesmen's boys carrying bundles of mer- 
chandise, and washer or char women, in every direction in 
the vicinity of the colleges. 

Splendid displays are made in the windows of tailors' and 
fhinishing goods stores — boating uniforms, different articles 
of dress worn as badges, stunning neck-ties, splendidly got up 
dress boots, hats, gloves, museums of canes, sporting whips, 
cricket bats, and thousands of attractive novelties to induce 
students to invest loose cash, or do something more common, 
^run up a bill;" and if these bills are sometimes not paid 


till years afterwards, the prices charged for this species of 
credit are such as prove remunei'ative to the tradesmen, who 
lose much less than might be supposed, as men generally 
make it a matter of principle to pay their college debts. 

The largest and most magnificent of the quadrangles is 
that of Christ Church College. It is two hundred and sixty- 
four feet by two hnndred and sixty-one, and fonned part of 
the original design of Wolsey, who founded this college. 
This noble quadrangle is entered through a great gate, 
known as Tom Gate, from the tower above it, which contains 
the great bell of that name, the Great Tom of Oxford, which 
weighs seventeen thousand pounds. I ascended the tower 
to see this big tocsin, which was exhibited to me with much 
pride by the porter, as being double the weight of the great 
bell in St. Paul's, in London, and upon our descending, was 
shown the rope l^y which it was rung, being assured that, 
notwithstanding the immense weight of metal, it was so 
hung that a very moderate pull would sound it. Curiosity 
tempted me, when the porter's back was turned, to give a 
smart tug at the rope, which swung invitingly towards my 
hand ; and the pull elicited a groat boom of bell metal above 
that sounded like a musical artillery discharge, and did not 
tend to render the custodian desirous of prolonging my ^dsit 
at that part of the college. 

The dining-hall of Christ Cliurch College is a notable 
apai-tment, and one that all tourists visit ; it is a noble hall, 
one hundred and thirteen feet by forty, and fifty feet in 
height. The roof is most beautifully caiTcd oak, with ar- 
morial bearings, and decorations of Henry VIII. and Cardinal 
Wolsey, and was executed in 1529. Upon the walls hangs 
the splendid collection of original portraits, which is one of its 
most interesting features, many of them being works of great 
artists, and representations of those eminent in the history 
of the university. Here hangs Holbein's original portrait 
of King Heniy VIII., — from which all the representations 
of the bluff polygamist that we are accustomed to see are 
taken, — Queen Elizabeth's portrait, that of Cardinal Wolsey, 


. iJop Pell, Marquis Wellesley, John Locke, and over a hun- 
Olj^ othera of " old swells, bishops, and lords chiefly, who have 
V ^^ed the college in some way," as Tom Brown says. 
^ ' to^ ^'fced, many of the most prominent men of English his- 

^^'^have studied at Oxford— Su- Walter Raleigh, the Black 

'^Qv Oe, Hampden, Butler, Addison, Wycliffe, Archbishop 

S^^hy% an.<i statesmen, generals, judges, and authors without 

^^ ^ei*- Xong tables and benches ai*o ranged each side of 

«L '^Vv i-ooro. 9 upon a dais at its head, beneath the gi*eat bow 

^^i!^OTV"» nnd HaiTy VIII.'s picture, is a sort of privileged' 

^ 't? o.'t "«vliich certain officers and more noble students dine 

^ ^He £i^^ ^^ ^^^^ land. Next comes the table of the "gentle- 

T;V.Hk ^^ixi TO. oners," a trifle less luxuriously supplied, and at 

^ ^ -foot; o^ *^^ ^^^^ ^iha commoners," whose pewter mugs 

I ^^ f h<3 TX^SL^'^^^ difference in the style of their table furniture 

M^. ^^^ -^1:10 distinctions of title, w^ealth, and poor gentlemen. 

A-fl-er ^* l><^®P ^t the big kitchen of this college, which has 

^v T>ixt> sl^S^^t^y altered since the building was erected, and 

>w^^5*, it,s<3l^ was the first one built by Wolsey in his col- 
'l *^^ ,^^^^ ^xxTTiG^ our steps to that grand collection of literary 

'^^' itb. - ^y^^ Bodleian Library. 

^•^^L literary wealth of this library, in one sense, is almost 

^, ^^-^l;>lc- I was fortunate enough to make the acquaint- 

"■^^yy o'f X^^- Hachman, a graduate of the university and one 

^7 Y»e liV>rarians, and through his courtesy enabled to see 

^ "^ Q-f ttio rare treasures of this priceless collection, that 

^y\Q^ o'tHcrwise have escaped our notice. 

^^ /^^cYO ^^^ looked upon the first Latin Bible ever printed, 

^ "r Arst, book printed in the English language, by Caxton, at 

XsP <rcs, it\ 1472, and the first English Bible, printed by Miles 

*^^^^-tfcrdalc. Here was the very book that Pope Gregory sent 

CP -^xigustin when he went to convert the Britons, and which 

*^^^have been the same little volume that he held in his 

^aiid when he pleaded the faith of the Redeemer to the Saxon 

^g Ethclbert, whom he converted from his idolatrous belief 

ttrelve hundred years ago. I looked with something like 

yeneration upon a little shelf •containing about twenty five 


volumes of first editions of books from the presses of Caxton, 
Guttenberg, and Faust, whose money value is said to be twenty- 
five thousand pounds ; but bibliomaniacs will .well understand 
that no money value can be given to such treasures. 

We were shown a curious old Bible, — a " Breeches *' Bible, 
as it is called, — which has a story to it, which is this. Abqut 
one hundred years ago this copy was purchased for the library 
at a comparatively low price, because the last ten or fifteen 
pages were missing. The volume was bound, however, and 
placed on the shelf; seventy-five years afterwards the purchas- 
ing agent of the library bought, in Rome, a quantity of old 
books, the property of a monk ; they were sent to England, 
and at the bottom of an old box, from among stray pamphlets 
and rubbish, out dropped a bunch of leaves, which proved, on 
examination and comparison, to be the very pages missing 
from the volume. They are placed, not bound in, at the 
close of the book, so that the visitor sees that they were, 
beyond a doubt, the actual portion of it that was missing. 

Banged upon another shelf was a set of first editions of the 
old classics. In one room, in alcoves, all classified, were rich 
treasures of literature in Sanscrit, Hebrew, Coptic, and even 
Chinese and Peraian, some of the latter brilliant in illumina- 
tion. Here was Tippoo Saib's Koran, with its curious charac- 
ters, and the Book of Enoch, brought^ from Abyssinia by 
Bruce, the Afiican explorer ; and my kind cicerone handed 
me another volume, whose odd characters I took to be Arabic 
or Coptic, but which was a book picked up at the capture of 
Sebastopol, in the Redan, by an English soldier, and which 
proved, on examination, to be The Pickwick Papere in the 
Russian language. 

Besides these, there were specimens of all the varieties of 
illuminated books made. by the monks between the years 800 
and 1000, and magnificent book-makers they were, too. This 
collection la perfect and elegant, and the specimens of the 
rarest and most beautiful description, before which, in beauty 
or execution, the most costly and elaborate iUustrated books 
of our day sink into insignificance. This may seem difficult 


to believe ; but these rare old volumes, with every letter dono 
by hand, their pages of beautifully prepared parchment, as thin 
as letter paper, — the colors, gold emblazonry, and all the 
different hues as bright as if laid on but a year — are a monu* 
ment of artistic skill, labor, and patience, as weU as an evi- 
dence of the excellence and durability of the material used 
by the old cloistered churchmen who expended their lives 
over these elaborate productions. The illuminated. Books of 
Hours, and a Psalter in pui-ple vellum, A. D. 1000, are the 
richest and most elegant specimens of book-work I ever looked 
upon. The execution, when the rude mode and great labor 
with which it was performed are taken into consideration, 
seems little short of miraculous. These specimens of illumi- 
nated books are successively classified, down to those of our 
own time. 

Then there were books that had belonged to kitigs, 
queens, and illustrious or noted characters in English his- 
tory. Here was a book of the Proverbs, done on vellum, for 
Queen Elizabeth, by hand, the letters but a trifle larger than 
those of these types, each proverb in a- different style of letter, 
and in a different handwriting. Near by lay a volume pre- 
sented by Queen Bess to her loving brother, with an inscrip- 
tion to that effect in the "Virgin Queen's'' own handwriting. 
Then we examined the book of Latin exercises, written by 
Queen Elizabeth at school ; and it was curious to examine 
this neatly-written manuscript of school-girl's Latin, penned 
so carefully by the same Angers that afterwards signed the 
death-warrants of Mary, Queen of Scots, the Duke of Nor- 
folk, and her own favorite, Essex. Next came a copy of 
Bacon's Essays, presented by Bacon himself to the Duke of 
Buckingham, and elegantly bound in green velvet and gold, 
with the donor's miniature portrait set on the cover ; then a 
copy of the first book printed in the English language, and a 
copy of Pliny's Natural History, translated by Landino in 
1476, Mary de Medicis' prayer-book, a royal autograph-book 
of visitors to the university, ending with the signatures of tha 
pi*esent Prince of Wales and Princess Alexandra. 



There was also a wealth of manuscript documents, a host 
of curious old relics of antiquity I have forgotten, and others 
that time only allowed a glance at, such as the autographic 
letters of Pope, Milton, Addison, and Archbishop Laud, 
Queen Henrietta's love letters to Charles I. before marriage, 
and Monmouth's declaration, written in the Tower the morn- 
ing of his execution, July 15, 1685. 

Among the bequests left to this splendid library was one 
of thirty-six thousand pounds, for the purchasing of the most 
costly illustrated books that could be had ; and the collection 
of these magnificent tomes in their rich binding was of itself 
a wonder : there were hosts of octavo, royal octavo, elephant 
folio, imperials, &c. ; there were Audubon's Birds, and Boydell's 
Shakespeare, and hundreds of huge books of that size, many 
being rare proof copies. Then we came to a large apartment 
which represented the light literature of the collection. For 
a space of two hundred years the library had not any collec- 
tion of what might properly be termed light reading. This 
gap was filled by a bequest of one of the best, if not the very 
best, collections of that species of literature in the kingdom, 
which commences with first editions of Cock Robin and 
Dame Trott and her Cat, and ends with rare and costly 
editions of Shakespeare's works. 

Weeks and months might be spent in this magnificent 
library (which numbers about two hundred and fifty thou- 
sand volumes, besides its store of curious historical man- 
uscripts) without one's having time to inspect one half its 
wealth; and this is not the only grand library in Oxford, 
either. There are the Library of Merton College, the most 
genuine ancient library in the kingdom ; the celebrated Rad- 
clifib Library, founded in 1737 by Dr. Radcliffe, physician to 
William III., and Mary, and Queen Anne, at an expense of 
forty thousand pounds, and which is sometimes known as the 
Physic Library; — in this is a reading-room, where all new 
publications are received and classified for the use of stu- 
dents; the Library of Wadham College, the Library of 
Queen's College, that of All Souls College, and of Exe- 


ter College, in a new and elegant Gothic builditg, erected in 
1856^ all affording a mine of wealth, in every depaitment of 
art, science, and belles-lettres. - 

A mine of literature, indeed ; and the liberality of some 
of the bequests to that grand university indicates the enor- 
mous wealth of the donors, while a visit even to portions of 
these superb collections will dwarf one's ideas of what they 
have previously considered as treasures of literature or grand 
collections in America. 

In one of the rooms I felt almost as if looking at an old 
acquaintance, as I was shown the very lantern which Guy 
Fawkes had in his hand when seized, which was carefully 
preserved under a glass case^ and was like the one in the 
picture-books, where that worthy is represented as being 
seized by the man in the high-peaked hat, who is descending 
the cellar stairs. Another relic is the pair of gold-embroi- 
dered gauntlet gloves worn by Queen Elizabeth when she 
visited the university, which are also carefully kept in like 
manner. ' 

In the picture gallery attached to the library are some fine 
paintings, and among those that attracted my attention were 
two portraits of Mary Queen of Scots, looking quite unlike. 
Their history is to the effect that the college had purchased 
what was supposed to be a fine old original portrait of the 
ill-fated queen, and as such it hung in its gallery for a number 
of years, till at length a celebrated painter, after repeated and 
close examinations, declared to the astonished dens that 
doubtless the picture was an original, and perhaps one of 
Mary, but that it had been re-costumed, and the head-dress 
altered, and various additions made, that detracted from its 
merit as a portrait. The painter further promised to make 
a correct copy of the portrait as it was, then to skiliully 
erase from the original, without injury, the disfiguring addi- 
tions that had been made, leaving it as when fii-st painted. 
This was a bold proposition, and a bold undertaking; but the 
artist was one of eminence, and the college government, 
ft (ter due deliberation, decided to let him make the trial. He 


did BO, and was perfectly successfol, as the two pictures 
prove. The original, divested of the foreign fiippery that 
had been added in the way of costume and head drapery, 
now presents a sweet, sad, pensive face, far more beautifiil, 
and in features resembling those of the painting of the 
decapitated head of the queen at Abbotsford. 

Here also hung a representation of Sir Philip Sidney, burned 
in wood with a hot poker, done by an artist mainy years ago 
-7;- a style of warm drawing that has since been successftilly 
done by the late Ball Hughes, the celebrated sculptor in Bos- 
ton, United States. Passing on beneath the gaunt, ascetic 
countenance of Duns Scotus, which looks down from a frame, 
beneath which an inscription tells us that he translated the 
whole Bible without food or drink, and died in 1809, we come 
to many curious relics in the museum. Among others was 
a complete set of carved wooden fruit trenchers, or plates, 
that once belonged to Queen Elizabeth. Each one was di^ 
ferently ornamented, and each bore upon it, in quaint Old 
English characters, a verse of poetry, and most of these 
verses had in them, some way or other, a slur at the marriage 
state. The little plates were said to be quite favorite articles 
with her single-blessed majesty. So, with some labor and 
study, I transcribed a few of the verses for American eyes, 
and here they are:- 

'*If thou be young, then many not yet; 
If thou be old, thou hast more wit; 
For young men's wires will not be taught. 
And old men*s wives are good for nought." 

How many " old men ^ will believe the last line of this 
pandering lie to the ruddy-headed queen? But here are 
others : — 

" If that a bachelor thou be, 
Keep thee so still ; be ruled by me ; 
Least that repentance, come too late. 
Reward thee with a broken pate." 



** A wifte that marryeth husbands three 
Was never wedded thereto hy me ; 
I would my wife would rather die, 
Than for my death to weep or cry." 

'' Thou art the happiest man alire, 
For every thing doth make thee thrive ; 
Tet may thy thrift thy master be; 
Thereforo take thrift and all for me.** 

** Thou goest after dead men's shoes, 
But barefoot thou art like to go. 
Content thyself, and do not muse, 
l^'or fortune saith it mus^ be 80." 

Emerging all unwillingly from the charms of the library, 
mtiseum, and the interesting interiors of these beantifol old 
buildings, we stroll out to that delightful place of oaks, and 
elms, and pleasant streams, Christ Church Meadows, walk be- 
neath the broad, overarching canopy of elms, joining together 
like the roof of a cathedral, that shades the famous " Broad 
Walk;'* we saunter into "Addison's Walk," a little quiet 
avenue among the trees, running down towards the River 
Ibis, and leaving Magdalen College, — which was Addison's 
college,— and its pretty, rural park, we come to the beautiful 
arched bridge which «pans the River Isis, and, crossing it, 

have a superbly picturesque view of Oxford, Twitb tbe grace- 
swelling dome of the Radchffe Librarv aad ^"^^ S^^"^"^ ^"^^"^ 

ftl, antique, and carious spires rising above ttv© c\tiY 
swelUng dome of 
of Christ Clitffch. 

Here, at this part of the «Meado^n« ;. 
cncket aftd other athletic games «/^ ^ 
gwips of ptomenadeis are in ev^ ^^^ ^ 
^oo»,and groups are seated. ? ^^^^ 

^ trunb of the elms, from ^^MoK ^^^ tU<? 

tWong,oratthebA»f, _ .7^?*^ tK-J ^''^ 


™a»8 md practice coi,r«^ 

*«»dly na™, and 2" 
Bmard .tudeau ba£j 

on the 











Charles, as nearly to excite ridicule and laughter. We 
should almost denominate it a large brook in America. For 
most of its length it was not more than sixteen or eighteen 
feet in width. The Isis is a branch of the River Cherwell, 
which is a branch of the Thames, and has this advantage — 
the rowers can never suffer njuch jfrom rough weather. 

Down near its mouth, where it widens towards the Cher- 
well, are the barges of the different boat clubs or universities. 
They are enormous affairs, elegantly ornamented and fitted 
up, and remind one of the great state barges seen in the pic- 
tures of Venice, where the Doge is marrying the Adriatic. 
Their interiors are elegantly upholstered, and contain cabins 
or saloons for the reception of fiiends, for lounging, or for 
lunch parties. Farther up the river, and we see the various 
college boats practising their crews for forthcoming trials of 
skill. These boats are of every variety of size, shape, and 
fashion — two-oared, six-oared, eight-oared, single wherries 
shooting here and there; long craft, like a line upon the 
water, with a crew of eight athletes, their heads bound in 
handkerchiefe, stripped to the waist, and with round, hard- 
ened, muscular arms, bending to theii* oars with a long, 
almost noiseless sweep, and the exact regularity of a chro- 
nometer balance. 

The banks were alive with the friends of the different 
crews, students and trainers, who ran along, keeping up with 
them, prompting and instructing them how to pull, and per- 
fecting them in their practice. Every now and then, one of 
these college boats, with its unifonned crew, would shoot 
past, and its group of attendant runners upon the dike, with 
their watchful eyes marking every unskilful movement. 

"Easy there, five." "Full steady, three." "Straighten 
your back more, two." 

"Shoulders back there, four; do you call that pulling?, 
mind your practice. Steady, now — one, two, three ; count> 
and keep time." 

"'Well done, four; a good pull and a strong pull." 

" I'm watching you, six ; no gammon. Pull, boys, pull," &c. 


Tho multitude of boats, with 'their crews, the gayly deco- 
rated barges, the merry crowds upon the pleasure-grounds, 
the arched bridge, and the picturesque background of gi-ace- 
ftil domes and spires, combined to form a scene which will 
not soon fade from memory. How many advantages does 
the Oxford student enjoy, besides the admirable opportunities 
for study, and for storing the mind, from the treasure-houses 
that are ready at his hand, with riches that cannot be stolen ; 
the delicious and romantic walks, rural parks, and grounds 
about here; the opportunities for boating, which may be 
extended to the River Chcrwell, where the greater width 
affords better opportunities for racing — attiition with the 
best mettle of the nation ; instruction from the best scholars ; 
and a dwelling-place every comer of which is rich in historic 

We walk to the place in front of Baliol College, where 
Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer were burned at the stake. 
The spot is marked by a small stone cross in tho pavement ; 
and a short distance from here, in an open square, stands an 
elaborately decorated Gothic monument, surmounted by a 
cross, and bearing beneath its arches the statues of the bish- 
ops, erected about twenty years ago, and is denominated the 
Martyrs' Memorial. But adieu to Oxford ; students, libraries, 
colleges, and historical relics -left behind, we are whirling 
over the railroad on our way up to London. Always say up 
to London, in England. Going to London is always going 
up, no matter what point of the compass you start fi-om. No 
true Englishman ever talks of going to the great city in any 
nay except going " up '^ to it. 

162 LONDON. 


The train glides into the gi*eat glass-roofed station; we 
are in Lomdon. A uniformed porter claps his hand on the 
<]oor of every first-class caniage, and runs by its side till the 
train stops. 

The i-ailway porters in attendance at each railroad station 
wear the uniform of the company, and are therefore readily 
recognized. They assist to load and unload the luggage, and 
in the absence of the check and other systems which prevail 
in America, quite a large force is required in the gi^eat sta- 
tions in London to attend to the luggage. The tourist is in- 
formed in the stations of soma companies, by conspicuous 
sign-boards that " the servants of this company are strictly 
forbidden to receive any fees from travellers, and any one of 
them detected in doing so will be instantly discharged.** 
This, however, does not prevent travellers from slyly thrust- 
ing gratuities upon them ; and the English system of bribery 
is so thoroughly ingrained into every department of 6er\'ice, 
that it is a pretty difficult question to manage. The portei-s 
and railway officials are always courteous and efficient ; they 
know their place, their business, and accept their position ; 
there is none of the fallen-monarch style of service such as 
we receive in America, nor the official making you wait upon 
him, instead of his waiting upon you. 

Men in England who accept the position of servants expect 
to do the duty of seiTants ; in America the " baggage master " 
is often a lordly, independent individual, who condescends to 
hold that position till appointed superintendent. I would by 
no means condemn the American ambition to gain by meritori- 
ous effort the positions that are open to all ranks, and that 
may be gained by the exercise of talent and ability, even if 
the possessor have not wealth ; but it is always pleasant tn 


have any species of service, that one contracts for, well done, 
and in England the crowded state of all branches of employ- 
ment and trade makes it worth workmen's while to bring 
forward efficiency and thorough knowledge of their trade as 
a leading recommendation. But the sixpence and the shil- 
ling in England are keys that will remove obstacles that 
the traveller never dreams of Let the raw American, how 
ever, gi'adually and cautiously learn their use^ under the 
tutelage of an expert if possible ; otherwise he will be giving 
shillings where only sixpences are expected, and sixpences 
where threepences are abundant compensation. 

What American would think of offering twenty-five cents 
to the sergeant at arms of the Boston State House for 
showing him the legislative hall, or twelve or fifteen cents 
to a railroad conductor for obtaining a seat for him ? Both 
individuals would consider themselves insulted ; but in Eng- 
land the offering is gratefully received. Indeed, at certain 
castles and noted show-places in Great Britain, the imposing 
appearance of an official in uniform, or the gentlemanly full 
dress of a butler or upper servant, until I became acquainted 
with the customs of the country, sometimes made me doubt 
whether it would not be resented if I should offer him half a 
sovereign, till I saw some Englishmen give him a shilling or 
half crown, which was very gi*atefully received. But to our 
arrival. First class passengers generally want cabs, il* they 
are not Londoners with their own carnages in waiting, and 
the railway porters know it. Fu-st and second class pas- 
sengers are more likely to disburse shillings and sixpences 
than third, and so the porter makes haste to whisk open the 
door of your compartment in the first class, and, as he touched 
his hat, says, "Luggage, sir?" 

" Yes ; a tinink on top, and this portmanteau." Valise 
is a word they don't understand the meaning of in England. 

The cabman whom the porter has signalled in obedience 
to your demand, has driven up as near the train as he is per- 
mitted to come. He is engaged. The wink, or nod, or up- 
raised finger from the porter, whom he knows, has told hiiB 


that. You ju mp out, in the throng of hundreds of passengers, 
into the brilliantly lighted station, stiff with long riding, con- 
fused with the rush, bustle, noise, and lights ; but the porter, 
into whose hand, as it rested on the car-door, you slyly 
slipped a sixpence or shilling, attends to your case instanter. 
He does not lose sight of you or your luggage, nor suffer you 
to be hustled a moment ; he shoulders your luggage, escorts 
you to the Qab, mayhap assisted by another ; pushes people 
out of the way, hoists the luggage witli a jerk to the roof of 
the cab, sings out, "Langham's Bill," to the driver, and you 
are off. 

The cab-driver, who has an understanding with the porter, 
when he returns to the station "divys" with him on the 
shilling. All this may be WTong, but is one of the customs 
of the country. To be sure, the London railway porters will 
bie polite, call a cab for you, and pack you into it, without 
any fee whatever; but you will, if you have not learned how 
to " tip," wonder how it was that so many persons seem to 
get off in cabs so much quicker than you, and why, in the 
miscellaneous mass of baggage that the porters are unload- 
ing from the top of the carriage, Jack tells Bob to " pass 
down the white portmanter" first, when your black one is 
much handier to get at. 

But away we rattle through the streets of London, on, on. 
How odd it seemed to see such names as Strand, Cheapside, 
Holbom, Ilatton Garden, flash out occasionally upon a comer 
near a gas-light ! What a never-ending stream of vehicles ! 
What singularly London names there were over the shop 
doors! What English-looking annoimcements on the dead 
w%alls and places where bills were posted ! London -^ well, at 
nighty seen from a cab window, it was not unlike many parts 
of New York, only it seemed like two or three New Yorks 
rolled into one. On we went miles through crowded streets, 
Regent Street, Oxford Street, and at last, at the West End, 
pulled up at the Langham Hotel, a house that nearly all 
fi^shly-aiTived Americans, especiaUy during the season of 
the French Exposition, when so many wont over, generally 


went to firrft on arrival in London, and generally very soon 
changed their quarters. It was then but recently built. It 
is a magnificent edifice in the fashionable part of London, 
and was understood to bo conducted on the American plan 
but proved to be like a northern man with southern prin- 
ciples, with few of the good and all of the bad characteHstics 
of both. 

America is the paradise of hotels — that is, the large cities 
of America ; but in London, the newly-arrived American will 
first be vexed at the utter incapability of the people to keep 
a hotel, and next amused at the persistent clinging to old cus- 
toms, and the absurd attempts made, by those who carry them 
on, to do so. The American hotel clerk, who Can answer 
fifty questions in a breath, who can tell you what the bill of 
performance is at all the theatres, at what hour the trains 
over the different roads stai-t, what is the best brand of wine, 
what to do, where to go, how much everything costs, recol- 
lects your name, is a gentleman in dress and address, and 
whom you mutually respecf as a man of quick preception, 
prompt decision, and tenacious memory, is an official unknown 
in London. You are met in that city by the head porter, 
who answers questions about trains (by aid of Bradshaw's 
Guide), will receive parcels for you, call a cab, or see that your 
luggage is sent up or down ; but as for city sights, where to 
go, what to see, when the opera or theatre begins, how to get 
to Richmond Hill, or Kew Gardens, or Windsor Castle, he is 
profoundly ignorant. 

In a small enclosure called a bar is a woman who books 
your name, keeps an account of everything you have, mak- 
ing a charge of each item separately, down to a cigar, neces- 
sitating an enormous amount of book-keeping. In this bar 
are others who draw ale, or extract spirits from casks ranged 
in the enclosure, as they may be ordered by guests in their 
own room or the " coffee-room," into carefully-marked meas- 
ures, so as to be sure that no one gets beyond his sixpence 
.worth of whiskey, or gin, or brandy ; but there is one thing 
certain : the guests, as a general thing, get a far better quality 

156 CLUMBY mai^ageio:kt. 

of liqaor than we in America, where it is next to an inipo& 
sibility to get even a good article of that great American, 
national drink, whiskey, pure and unadulterated. 

These bar-maids can you no information except about 
the price of rooms, meals, and refreshments. Next comes 
the head waiter, who, with the porter, appears to "run" the 
hotel. This worthy must be feed to insure attention. If you 
are a single man, you can dine well enough in the coffee- 
room, if you order your dinner at a certain time in advance. 
However, the great London hotels are slowly becoming 
Americanized in some departments: one improvement is 
that of having what is called a " ladies' coffee-room," i. e^ a 
public dining-room, and a table cThote, and not compelling a 
gentleman and wife to dine in solemn state in a private 
room, under the inspection of a waiter. Between stated 
hours, anything in the magnificent bills of fare, for the three 
meals, is ready on demand at an American hotel ; for instance, 
the guest may sit down to break&st at any time between six 
and eleven ; to dinner at one, three, and five ; to tea at six to 
eight, and supper ten to twelve ; and anything he ordera will 
be served instanter: the meals at those times are always 
ready. In London, nothing is ever readj/j and everything 
must be ordered in advance. 

It is a matter of positive wonderment to me that the 
swarms of Englishmen, whom one meets in the well-kept 
hotels of Berne, Lucerne, Wiesbaden, Baden Baden, Ac, can, 
after enjoying their comforts and conveniences, endure the 
cJimisy manner of hotel-keeping, and the discomforts of tlio 
London hotels, or that the landlords of the latter can persist 
in han^g back so obstinately from adopting the iatcst im- 

The new and large hotels, however, are a great improve- 
ment on the old style, and the best thing for afresh American 
tourist to do, before going to London, is to get some fellow- 
countryman, who has bad experience in the hotels and lodg- 
ings of that metropolis, to "post him up" as to which will, 
the best suit his taste and desires. 

My firat Lijiht 
at the "Weat End 
quiet one; the hi 
.between variona 
dences, and the tun 
unceasing roar of 
till three A. M., wi 
made mo long for 1 
Scotch country inn 
A ccommo J'ition( 
ble, but (nT more Cf 
attention, and com 
at this English hoi 
long ere I found tJj 
that of numerous o 
way to live in Lend 
any length of- time - 
liflh themselves, wh' 
possible, always avo 
hercQce to this old 
the indifference to t 
accommodation in t 
I thought my ex 
pared me for Lom 
streets for the first 
Btunncd and bewild 
that poured down 
on to the city, or 
Lombard Street, tl 
Great omnibusee 
over the paverneii 
sort of cotujjressc 
resuBcitato^ from 
and there; t 

carriages, rt il 

plodded ^i /^: 

158 01O7IBUSE8. 

a moving mass of humanity, and many weie the novelties 
that met my curious eye. 

The stifl^ square costume of the British merchant ; little 
boys of ten, with beaver hats like men ; Lord Dundrearys with 
eye-glasses such as I had never seen before, except upon the 
stage at the theatre ; ticket porters with their brass labels 
about their necks ; policemen in their uniform ; oflScers and 
soldiera in theirs ; all sorts of costemiongers with everything 
conceivable to sell, and all sorts of curious vehicles, some 
with wood enough in them for three of a similar kind in 

The drivers of the London omnibuses feel the dignity of 
their position, — tkey do» It is the conductor who soKcits 
passengers, takes the pay, and regulates the whole business 
of the establishment. The driver, or rather the " coachman," 
drives ; he wears a neat top-coat, a beaver hat, and a pair of 
driving gloves ; he drives with an air. You can attract his 
attention from the sidewalk, and he will "pull up," but he 
does it with a sort of calm condescension ; the conductor or cad, 
on the other hand, is ever on the alert ; his eyes are in every 
direction ; he signals a passenger in the crowd invisible to all 
but him ; he continually shouts the destination of his vehicle, 
but sometimes in a patois unintelligible except to the native 
Londoner. As for instance, I was once standing in Holbom, 
waiting for a 'bus for the Bank ; one passed, which from its 
inscription I did not recognize, the conductor ejaculating, as 
he looked on every side, " AnixK-WYcraPLE, Binkwychi- 
PLE," when suddenly he detected us in the throng, and 
marked us as strangers looking for a 'bus ; in a twinkling he 
was down from his perch, and upon the sidewalk. 

" Binkwychiple ? " 

" I want to go to the Bank," said L 

" All right, sir ; 'ere you are." 

He gave a shrill whistle, which caused the driver who was 
sixty feet away, to stop, hurried us both into the vehicle, 
slammed to the door, and, taking off his hat with mock polite- 
ness to a rival 'bus that had nearly overtaken his, said, " Can't 


vait for you, sir : drive on, Bob ; " and on we went to our 

Another 'bus conductor puzzled me by shouting " Sim- 
mery-Ex^ Simmery-Ex^ Simmery-Ex^'* until the expression 
was translated into " St. Mary's Axe," the locality alluded 
to. These conductoi'S are generally shai'p, quick-witted, and 
adepts at " chaff" and blackguardism, and it is good advice 
to the uninitiated to beware " chaffing " them, as in nine cases 
out of ten the cad gets the best of it. 

The Hansom cabs are the best and most convenient vehi- 
cles that can used for short excursions about the 
city. A shilling will cany you a smart fifteen minutes' ride, 
the legal price being sixpence a mUe, but nobody ever ex- 
pects to give a cabman any less than a shilling for ever so 
short a ride. Eighteen pence is readily accepted for a three 
mile trip, and it costs no more for two pereons than one. 
There being nothing between the passenger and the horse 
but the dasher, as the diiver is perched up behind, an unob- 
structed view is had as you whirl rapidly through the crowded 
streets ; and the cheapness of the conveyance, added to its 
adaptability for the purpose that it is used, makes an Ameri- 
can acknowledge that in this matter the English are far in 
advance of us, and also to wonder why these convenient 
vehicles have not displaced the great, cumbersome, two-horse 
carriages which even a single individual is compelled to take 
in an American city if he is in a hurry to go to the railway 
station or to execute a commission, and which cost nearly 
as much for a trip of a mile as would engage a Hansom in 
London for half a day. 

There has been much said in the London papers about the 
impositions of the cab-drivers ; but I must do them the justice 
to say I saw little or none of it : making myself acquainted 
with the legal rate, I found it generally accepted without 
hesitation. If I was in doubt about the distance, instead of 
adopting the English plan of keeping the extra sixpence, I 
gave it, and so cheaply saved disputes. 

Coming out from the theatres, you find privileged porters, 


who have the right of calling cabs for those who want them, 
besides numerous unprivileged ones; boyis, who will dart 
out to where the cabs are, — they m^e not allowed to stand in 
front of the theatre, — and fetch you one in an instant. The 
driver never leaves his seat, but your messenger opens the 
cab, and shuts you in, shouts your direction to the driver, and 
touches his cap, grateful for the penny or two pence that you 
reward him with. 

What a never-ending source of amusement the London 
streets are to the newly-arrived American — their very names 
historical. Here we are in Regent Street, where you can 
buy everything ; the four quarters of the world seem to have 
been laid under contribution to supply it: here are magnifi- 
cent jewelry stores, all ablaze with rich and artistically-set 
gems and jewels ; here a huge magazine of nothing but India 
shawls and scarfs — an excellent place to buy a camel's hair 
shawl. Ladies, save your money till you go to London, for 
that pride of woman's heart comes into England duty free, and 
from fifty to four hundred dollars may be saved, according to 
the grade purchased, on the price charged in America. In 
this India store one could buy from scarfs at five shUlingb to 
shawls at four hundred guineas. 

Then there were the splendid dry goods stores, the win- 
dows most magnificently dressed ; shoe stores, with those 
peculiarly English ** built," — that is the only word that will 
express it, so fashioned by rule into structures of leather wct^ 
they, — English built shoes of all sizes in the window, and 
shoes that will outwear three psdrs of Yankee-made affairs, 
unless one goes to some of the very choice establishments, or 
to foreigners at home, who, knowing how rare faithful work 
and good material are in their business, charge a tremendous 
premium for both articles. I think for service, ease to the 
foot, and real economy, there is no boot or shoe like those by 
the skilled London makers ; the price charged is only about 
twenty-five per cent, less than in America ; but an article of 
solid, substantial, honest British workmanship is furnished, 
and any one who has ever bought any portion of his ward- 


robe of an English maker, knows the satisfaction experienced 
in wearing articles made upon honor ; the quality, stitches,, 
and workmanship can be depended upon. 

But what is in other shops ? 

O, everything ; elegant displays of gentlemen's furnishing 
goods, of shuts, under-clothing, socks and gloves, of a variety, 
fineness, and beauty I had never seen before ; gloves, fans, 
fancy goods, China ware ; toy shops, shops of English games, 
cricket furniture, bats, balls, &c. ; elegant wine and preserve 
magazines — where were conserves, preserves, condiments, 
pickles, cheeses, dried fhiits, dried meats, and appetizing deli- 
cacies from every part of the globe, enough to drive an epicure 
crazy. At these great establishments are put up the " ham- 
pers " that go to supply parties who go to th** races or picnics. 
You order a five-shilling or five-pound hamper, and are sup- 
plied accordingly — meat-pies, cold tongues, fowls, game, 
wines, ales, pickles. There are English pickles, Dutch saur 
krout, French pate de fois gras^ Finnian haddock, German 
sausages, Italian macaroni, American buffalo tongues, and 
Swiss cheeses, in stacks. That is what astonishes the Amer- 
ican — the enormous stock in these retaU establishments, and 
the immense variety of styles of each article ; but it should 
be remembered that this is the market of the world, and the 
competition here is shaip. Go into a store for a pair of 
gloves, even, mention the size you desire, and the salesman 
will show you every variety in kid, French dogskin, cloth, and 
leather ; for soiree, promenade, driving, travelling, and every 
species of use, and different styles and kinds for each use. 
The salesmen understand their business, which is to sell 
goods ; they are polite, they suggest wants, they humor your 
merest whim in hue, pattern, style, or fancy ; they make no 
rude endeavor to force goods upon you, but are determined 
you shall have just what you want; wait upon you with 
assiduous politeness, and seem to have been taught their 

One misses that sort of independent nonchalance with 
wliich an American retail salesman throws out one article 



at a time, talking politics or of the weather to you, while yon 
yourself turn over the goods, place them, and adjust them for 
the effect of light or shade, as he indolently looks on, or per- 
sistently battles in argument with you, that what he has 
shown you is what you ought to have, instead of what you 
demand and want ; also that American style of indifference, 
or independence, as to whether you purchase or not, and the 
making of you — as you ascertain after shopping in London — 
do half the salesman's work. The London shopman under- 
stands that deference is the best card in the pack, and plays 
it skilfully. He attends to you assiduously ; he is untiring to 
suit your taste. If he sells you a ribbon, the chances are that 
you find, before leaving, you have purchased gloves, fan, and 
kerchief besides, and it is not until you finally take your de- 
parture that he ventures to remark that " it is a very fine 

Many of the London first-class establishments, such as tai- 
lors, fumishing-goods dealers, umbrella stores, shoemakers, 
cheesemongers, or fancy-grocery stores, have two stores, one 
in Regent Street, the fashionable quarter, and one in the city, 
Bay down towards the Bank, in Threadneedle Street, Poultry, 
Cheapside, &c. The " city " or down-town store of the same 
firm, it is well known to Londoners, will sell the same goods 
and same articles at least five per cent, cheaper than the up- 
town Regent or Oxford Street one will. 

Besides serviceable boots and shoes, gentlemen's wearing 
apparel, and under-clothing, buy your umbrellas in England. 
They make this article splendidly, doubtless from its being an 
article of such prime necessity. The English umbrella is 
made light, shapely, and strong, of the best materials, — if you 
get them of a dealer of reputation, Sangster's, for instance, — 
they will keep their shape until completely worn out. 

While in London, purchase whatever trunks, portmanteaus, 
or valises you may need fot your continental tour. London 
is the paradise of this species of merchandise, and in Paris 
you will learn too late that trunk-making is not a Frenchman's 
art, though if you reach Vienna, the headquarters of the vie- 

■''OH to m J ^ ^"'e* at v«^ ^-''-'' ^'^ ^'^'"'^^ ^^^''^ i" 

^'^ com^ '^e most ^ -^*><^e^« *e prices, that will en 

It is „^*6of envT, °'S""is^»'^<^ carpet-bagger in j 

^^^otfiin- S >* ion J- - . . 

€rent/eml • ^^'^forjaw- ,^ Aeac^^ carters for gentlem« 

*^o"a-ifr.K"' ^'•°«»' and ^^^ - Lor^^d^r^ «et8 tha fashion 

^•evetiep?"'^««ieof^e^^';'« that :^J^ the gerXler sex, 

*^o' « mal!.''*'"^ ias «t.^/*5»*s,gio^«fi. and dress hoots, I 

^^ comfort ''I «^««e and bo ^''^^^^ *>^ ^hetrack." APm 

*«o oiuch « tLf'' ^"SUsh h ^^"*^' an S^:: nglish one for serv 

f^'^- WS*">'° ''^ ««a ^ ^" «" ^"glish dogKiart, ] 

5?«'> clothes of 5°"«»n8 ieave ?k^''^''°^ fiTlove is unapproa 

f thers order of *^ ^^^^^1. fc^t^^e fir fc^eet, or Creed A f 

^'>^btless, sZ ?f '°°^« of the - *^ ««»c-fc West EnT. . 
rials I. . '' *^eni ert„„ii csxtv fa.-i -T ■'^°<' tailo 

Shtr^ ^''^ ^•^CS ^""' and^'^ . ^^^ town, wl 
i«-thtSt^ '"''" ^'^^ to «te^^.^« Of the^S ^"^*.as good mat 

**oagfcmson's in in. t"®^*" T>r-«.^ *^' <>l<^-^asbiont^a a 

o«' flan, J;"\^eadnee<i£^%^«««8«oi3 *r«<^e<J, !!f L**r 

-"* there is som^^K" ' ^eertis tr> « ^''^ older a. businea 

■^P^tation, and )! ^* '''* ^t. :^^ P'^^^ess in oiz^eozzier-s' eyea 
't'^'e. with tha* " ^owr^ ^ or a store that lista i>u.iltup 
"■• eighteen hL^^"^ ^^ i^idc^ "* ^"^^ ^ot, tailot-^s^ or h 
!?»'« about l***^ a'ld so^'^f^cnt. " estabJisJiecf ^:r* 1-79' 
^"■^^ of cl^h ?r^ ^-^ i^aS^^^S' "-o^ than /<>:r^3^ ?« 

««'-^ — t c:mTto"^« -j;— 


two workiuen who wait upon yon, measure, snip, mould, and 
adapt their work, appear to take as much pride in their occu- 
pation as a sculptor or artist. Indeed, they consider them- 
selves " artists " in their line ; for Creed & Co's card, which 
lies before me as I write, announces " H. Creed & Co." to be 
" Artistes in Draping the Real Figure," and gives the cash-on- 
deliveiy purchaser ten per cent, advantage over the credit 

Furs are another article that can be bought very cheap in 
London. But I must not devote too much space to shopping; 
suffice it to say that the windows of the great magazines of 
merchandise in Oxford and Regent Streets form in themselves 
a perfect museum of the products of the world, — and I have 
spent l\ours in gazing in at them, — for the art of window- 
dressing is one which is well understood by their proprietors. 

A volume might be written — in fact, volumes have been 
written — about London streets, and the sights seen in them. 
It seemed so odd to be standing opposite old Temple Bar, on 
the Strand, to see really those names we had so often read o^ 
to wonder how long the spirit of American improvement 
would suffer such a barrier as that Bar to interrupt the tre- 
mendous rush of travel that jams, and crowds, and surges 
through and around it. Here is Front's tooth-brush store 
close at hand. Everybody knows that Front's brushes are 
celebrated. "We step in to price some. " One shilling each, 
sir." You select twelve, give him a sovereign. He takes 
out ten shillings. " The price, sir, at wholesale." The repu- 
tation of that place would suflFer, in the proprietor's opinion, 
if he had allowed a stranger to have gone, even if satisfied, 
away, and that stranger had afterwards ascertained that the 
price per dozen was less, and that any one could purchase less 
than he. So much for the honor of " old-established " places. 

We go up through Chancery Lane, — how often we have 
read of it, and what lots of banistera' chambers and legal 
stationers there are, — out into "High Holbom," Holbom 
Hill, or " Eye Obun," as the Londoners call it. What a rush 
of 'buses, and drays, and cabs, and Hansoms, and everything 


Bat let US go. Where is it one goes first on arrival in Lon- 
don ? If he is an American, the firat place he goes to is his 
banker, to get that most necessary to keep him going. So 
hither let us wend our way. 

If there is any one thing needed in England besides hotels 
on the American plan, it is an American bankmg-house of 
capital and reputation in the city of London ; a house that uu- 
*derstands the wants and feelings of Americans, and that will 
cater to them ; a house that will not hold them off at arm's 
length, as it were ; one that is not of such huge wealth as to 
treat American customers with surly British routine and red 
tape ; a house that wants American busineaSy and that will do 
it at the lowest rate of percentage. In fact, some of the 
partners, at least, should be Americans in heart and feeling, 
and not Anglicized Americans. 

The great banking-house of Baring Brothers & Co., whose 
correspondents and connections are in every part of the 
world, — whose superscriptions I used to direct in a big, 
round hand, upon thin envelopes, when I was a boy in a mer- 
chant's counting-room, and whose name is as familiar in business 
mouths as household words, — it would be supposed would 
be found occupying a structure for their banking-house like 
some of the palatial edifices on Broadway, or the solid granite 
buildings of State Street, where you may imagine that you 
could find out about everything you wished to know about 
London ; what the sights were to see ; which was the best 
hotel for Americans ; what you ought to pay for things ; how 
to get to Windsor Castle, or the Tower, Ac. Of course they 
would have American papers, know the news from America ; 
and you, a young tourist, not knowing Lombard Street from 
Pall Mall, would, on presentation of your letter of credit, be 
greeted by some member of the firm, and asked how you did, 
what sort of a passage you had over, could they do anything 
for you, all in American style of doing things; but, bless 
your raw, inexperienced, unsophisticated soul, you have yet 
to learn the solid, British, square-cut, high shirtrcollar style 
of doing " business." 


I have roared with laughter at the discomfiture of many a 
young American tourist who expected something of the cor- 
dial style and the great facilities such as the young American 
houses of Bowles & Co. or Drexel & Co. afford, of these 
great London bankei*s. The latter are civil enough, but, as 
previously mentioned, they do " hisineaa^^ and on the rigid 
English plan ; they will cash your check less commission, an- 
swer a question, or send a ticket-porter to show you the way 
out into Lombard Street, or, perhaps, if you send your card in 
to the managing partner's room, he will admit you, and will 
pause, pen in hand, from his writing, to bid you good morn- 
ing, and wait to know what you have to say ; that is, if 
you have no other introduction to him or his house than a 
thousand or two pounds to your credit in their hands, which 
you intend drawing out on your letter of credit. 

Don't imagine such a bagatelle as that thousand or two, 
my raw tourist, is going to thaw British ice ; it is but a drop 
in their ocean of capital, and they aHow you four per cent, 
interest; and though they may contrive to make six or seven 
on it, all they have to do with you is to honor your drafts 
less commission to the amount of yom* letters. 

Messrs. Baring Brothers & Co.'s banking house we finally 
ascertain is at No. — , Bishop Gate (within). Arrived at No. 
— ^ Bishop Gate, you find that within is in through a pas- 
sage to the rear of the building ; and so we go in. There is 
no evidence of a "palatial" character in the ordinaiy con- 
tracted and commonplace looking counting-room, an area 
enclosed by desks facing outward, and utterly devoid of all 
those elegant conveniences one sees in the splendid counting- 
rooms on Wall and State Streets, — foolish fiippery, may 
be, — but the desks look crowded and inconvenient, the area 
for customers mean and contracted, for a house of such wealth, 
and we wondered at first if we had not made some mistake. 
Here we were, in a plain and very ordinary counting-room, 
like that of a New England country bank, surrounded on 
three sides by desks facing towards us, behind high and trans- 
parent scj*eens, and six or eight clerks at them, writing in 


huge ledgers. After standing some minutes in imcertainty 
we made for the nearest clerk at one of the apertures in the 
semicircle of desks. 

" Is this the Messrs. Barings' counting-house ? " 

" Yes, sii-." 

" I wish to draw some money." 

« Bill, sir, or letter of credit ? " 

" Letter of credit." 

"Opposite desk;" and he pointed with his quill pen to the 
other side. 

I accordingly crossed over, and commenced a fresh dialogue 
with another clerk. 

" I desire to draw some money on this letter of credit " 
(handing it). 

"Yes, sir" (taking it; looks at the letter, reads it careftdly, 
then looks at me searcliingly). "Are you the Mr. y men- 
tioned here ? " 

"I am, sir" (decidedly). 

" How much money do you want ? " 

" Twenty-five pounds." 

Clerk goes to a big ledger, turns it over till he finds a cer- 
tain page, looks at the page, compares it with the letter, 
tuiiis to another clerk, who is writing with his back to him, 
hands him letter, says something in a low tone to him. 
Second clerk takes letter, and goes into an inner apaitment, 
and the first commences waiting on a new comer, and I com- 
mence waiting developments. 

In about five minutes clerk number two returned with 
something for me to sign, which I did, and he left again. 
After waiting, perhaps, five minutes more, I ventured to in- 
quire if my letter of credit was ready. Clerk number one 
said it would be here " d'rectly ; " and so it was, for clerk 
number two retmned with it in its envelope, and in his hand 
a check, which he handed me, saying, "Eighty Lombard 


"80 Lombard Street" (pointing to check). 


"0, I am to get the money at 80 Lombard Street — 

" Yes ; better buriy. It's near bank closing." 

"But where is Lombard Street?" 

(Aghast at my ignorance.) "Cross d'l'ectly you go out, 

turn firet to left, then take Street on right, and it's first 

street on lefl" 

It might have been an accommodation to have paid me 
the money there, instead of sending me over to Lombard 
Street ; but that would probably have been out of routine, and 
consequently un-English. 

I started for the door, but when nearly out, remembered 
that I had not inquired for lettei*s and papers from home, that 
I had given instructions should be sent there to await my 
arrival from Scotland and the north, and accordingly I 
returned, and inquired of clerk number two, — 

" Any letters for me ? " 

" Ah ! beg yer pardon." 

" Any letters for me ? " 

" You 'av your letter in your 'and, sir." 

"No; I mean any lettera from home — from America — 
to my addi'ess ? " 

" The other side sir" (pointing across the area). 

I repaired to the " other side," gave my address, and had 
the satisfaction of receiving several epistles from loved ones 
at home, which the clerk checked off his memoranda as de- 
livered, and I sallied out my fii-st day in London, to turn to 
the left; and right, and find Lombard Street, Three pence 
and a ticket porter enabled me to do this speedily, and thus 
ended our first experience at Baring Brothera & Co.'s. i 

There may, perhaps, be nothing to complain of in all this 
as a business transaction, but that it was regularly performed ; 
but after one has experienced the courtesies of bankers on the 
continent, he begins to ask himself the question, if the Bar- 
ings ought not, taking into consideration the amount of money 
they have made and are making out of their American busi- 
ness and the American people, to show a little less parsimony 


rnd more liberality and ooizrtes>^ ^ "^ Str^li^ ^^ '^^ 
convenience and accommadation ^^^^ ^ tourist, ^vhose ^^^ ^^ 
and make some effort to put thc^ ^^csccndcd to receiv , 
two thousand pounds they hare ^f^^^xacnt. . ^^qu 

Iiis ease when he visits their establi^^j^jicc I ^^'^ ^ ., n 
All this may have been aliaixgc^^ ^ fj^eltolV^avc descriDtu 
(1867) ; but the style of trans act ioiv^ t^ion Among Amencans, 
was then a general topic oF oonvex'JS ^^ ^act one's experience, 
and seemed to have been sirxillar i«^ -.^ou* Upon pvcsenting 
In Paris how different was ttio ireccp^^ ^^^jiking-liouse, a jvinioi 
your letter, a member of the ^A^mericacE -*^' ^^ cordially, nvake 
partner, probably, steps for\\ra.x-a, gi-eo*^ j^assa^^c over, invite 
pleasant inquiries with regard "to yoixr* Jr ^^^° ^^ y^^ into 
you to register your name sxxia addrc^^^^^ ^^^^j^ ^^^ ^^ fi] 
large room where the leading .A.inerica:n -^^ine conversatio 
and there are conveniences for letter -%%'J^'^^ ^' ^ers* can 1 

&c: He invites you to malco tViis your li4^^^^^^^ ' ^^^^ 

do anything for you? yoix ^vant some "^^^^^^ are not se 
of the house cashes your <ii-a.f\i at once, ar:i" 't^'n^-house. 1 
out mto the street to hunt ix-p an unknown ^^^^^ ^^ oi- its sigV 
can answer you almost any qxxestion about; -*^* jj^Iaces of i^ 
and procure you cards of ;p<?iXTXLission to &tic^ fSci^^^ ^^^'* 
as it is necessary to senci "to govemmeot ^ ^oxxiioas 

you where to board or loci go, and execute ^ -^ 

for you. 99 ^^^i ^ b^ b^ 

The newly-aiTived Amovloaxi feels " at home ^ ^^^ 3j 
gix3ethig as this at once, an A if his letter dra ^^^^3^^\ 
agent in Paris, is prone to ^vitlidraw funds, and ^^^^ ^^ ^' 
his new-found friends. Or course the houses ^^^^^ ^ ^ 
that tourists do business ^vltli in Paris, ^vere P^^^- ^ 
city, and may be classea. as l>anking and ^^^^^^j^^ 
and the «co::unission '' i>ai-b of the business has ^^^^ 
istence within a few yoai-s, and was of some imp^^^ 
ing the year of the Exposition. That part ^^ j 
would not be desirable to a great London ban ^^ 
is there the field for it^, as in Paris; but tne 

an improvement in 

conTreniences, accommodation: 


courtesy, &c^ towaids American customers, especially tourists, 
who naturally, on first amval, turn to their banker for infor- 
mation respecting usages, customs, &c., and for other intelli- 
gence which might be afforded with comparatively little 

But to the sights of London. The streets themselves, as I 
have said, are among the sights to be seen in this great 
metropolis of the civilized world. There is Pall Mall, or 
" Pell Mell," as the Londoners call it, with its splendid club- 
houses, the "Travellers," "Reform," "Army and Navy," 
"Athenaeum," "Guards," "Oxford," and numerous othera I 
cannot now recall ; Regent Street, to which I have referred, 
with its splendid stores ; Oxford Street, a street of miles in 
length, and containing stores of equal splendor with its more 
aristocratic rival ; Holbom, which is a continuation of Oxford, 
and carries you down to " the city ; " Fleet Street and the 
Strand, with their newspaper offices, and bustle, and turmoil, 
houses, chm*ches, great buildings, and small shops. Not far 
fi'om here are Charing Cross Hotel and the railroad station, a 
splendid modem building ; or you may go over into White- 
hall, pass by the Horse Guards' Barracks, — in front of which 
two mounted troopei*s sit as sentinels, — and push on, till rising 
to view stands that one building so fraught with historic in- 
terest as to be worth a journey across the ocean to see — the 
last resting-place of kings, queens, princes, poets, warriors, 
artists, sculptors, and divines, the great Pantheon of Eng- 
land's glory — Westminster Abbey. 

Its time-browned old walls have looked down upon the regal 
coronation, the earthly glory, of the monarch, and received 
within their cold embrace his powerless ashes, and bear upon 
their enduring sides man's last vanity — his epitaph. 

** Think how many royal bones 
Sleep within these lieaps of stones ! 
Here they lie — liad realms and lands, 
Who now want strength to lift their hands, 
Where, from their pulpit, scaled with dast, 
They prcac h, * In greatness is no trust.* 


Here's an acre, sown, indeed, ,j 

With the richest royal seed 
That the earth did e'er suck in 
Since the first man died for sin." 

I stood before this magnificent Gothic pile, which was 
brown with the breath of a many centuries, with that feel- 
ing of quiet satisfaction and enjoyment that one experiences 
in the fruition of the hopes of yeai-s. There were the two 
great square towei-s, Avith the huge Gothic window between, 
and the Gothic door below. How I was carried back to 
the picture-books, and the wood-cuts, and youth's histories, 
that, many a time and oft, I had hung over when a 
boy, and dreamed and fancied how it really looked; and 
here it was — a more than realization of the air-castle of 

The dimensions of the abbey are, length, about four hun- 
dred feet, breadth at the transept, two hundred and three feet ; 
the length of the nave, one hundred and sixteen feet, breadth, 
thirty-eight feet ; the choir, one hundred and fifty-six feet by 
thirty-one. To the dimensions of the abbey should be added 
that of Henry VII.'s Chapel, which is built on to it, of one 
hundred and fifteen feet long by eighty wide, its nave being 
one hundred and four feet long and thirty-six wide. 

The form of the abbey is the usual long cross, and it has 
three entrances. Besides the nave, choir, and transepts, there 
are nine chapels dedicated to difierent saints, and an area of 
cloisters. The best external view of the building is obtained 
in front of the western entrance, where the visitor has full 
view of the two great squai-e towers, which rise to the height 
of tAvo hundred and twenty-five feet. 

But let us enter. Out from an unusually bright day for 
London, we stepped in beneath the lofty arches, lighted by 
great windows of stained glass, glowing far above in colored 
sermons and religious stories ; and from this point — the west- 
em entrance — a superb view may be had of the interior. 
Stretching far before us is the magnificent colonnade of pillars, 
a perfect arcade of columns, terminating with the Chapel of 


Edward the Confessor, at the eastern extremity, and the 
whole interior so admirably lighted that every object is well 
brought out, and clearly visible. 

In whichever direction the footsteps may incline, one is 
brought before the last mementos of the choicest dust of 
England. Here they lie — sovereigns, poets, warriors, divines, 
authors, heroes, and philosophers; wise and pm'e-minded 
men, vulgar and sensual tyrants ; those who in the fiillness 
of years have calmly passed away, "rich in that hope that tri- 
umphs over pain," and those whom the dagger of the assassin, 
the axe of the Executioner, and the bullet of the battle-field 
cut down in their prime. Sovereign, priest, soldier, and citizen 
slumber side by side, laid low by the great leveller, Death. 

The oldest of the chapels is that of St. Edward the Con- 
fessor. It contains, besides the monument to its founder, 
those of many other monarchs. Here stands the tomb of 
Henry III., a great altar-like structure of porphyry, upon 
which lies the king's eflSgy in brass. He was buried with 
great pomp by the Knights Templars, of which order his 
father was a distinguished member. Next comes the plain 
marble tomb of that bold cnisader, Edward I., with the de- 
spoiled one of Henry V. Here also is the tomb of Eleanor, 
queen to Edward I., who, it will be remembered, sucked the 
poison from her husband's wound in Palestine ; and hero the 
black marble tomb of Queen Philippa, wife to Edward III., 
who quelled the Scottish insurrection during her husband's 
absence. This tomb was once ornamented with the brass 
statues of thirty kings and princes, but is now despoiled. 
Upon the great gray marble tomb of Edwai-d III., who died 
in 1377, rests his effigy, with the shield and sword carried be- 
fore him in France — a big, two-handled affair, seven feet long, 
and weighing eighteen pounds. 

The most elegant and extensive chapel in the abbey is that 
of Henry VII. Its lofty, arched, Gothic ceiling is most ex- 
quisitely carved. There are flowers, bosses, roses, pendants, 
panels, and armorial bearings without number, a bewildering 
mass of exquisite tracery and ornamentation in stone, above 


el the Knigi^^ of 

and on every wide. In tlia nai^e ^c^^^^'/ ^JJ^re their stalls, or 

the Order of the Bath are install^^^ ^."l i^othic canopies, while 

seats, elegantly carA^edaxid shadc^<2 ^f^l devices, and l>a'^^^^- 

above arc their coats of ^miB, lieX'-^t \aagnific<^^*'^^®^^ 

But the great object ofintcrGst ia ^^^ j^\y of ^ founder, Uenrj 

chapel is the elaborate and elegant? ^^ ^ of tlie House of xorl 

VII., and his queen, Elizabe til, the ^^ J^nA la elegantly carver 

who wore the English crown. Tb^ of the royal pair res 

and ornamented, and bears ttie effi^^^ surrounded by a moi 

ing upon a slab of black martle. It> ^^^^^ougbt braBS-woi 

elaborate screen, or fence, of* ourioci^ fcifiil tomb, erected 

In another part of this char>€jl is a b^^^'*^ i„i.oatPr eflacY 

Maiy, Queen of Scots, surrrxoviTxted by^ ^"^ I L ereci 

the unfortunate queen; an^ farther oi^ ^ . ^!l Jrnb 

by King James I. to Queea Elizabeth, fc.^^iii'i^g ^^^J^^^^^ 

eflSgy of that sovereign, supported by ror^x- ii^^. Queen m 

("Bloody Maiy"), who bumoa about gc^^^^ity persons a 3 

at the stake during four yea.irs of her rci^^^ ^^^^ ^^J^^^^ 

same vault. Not far froxn tliis monum^^o * ^ ^^"^^. ^^^ 

cophagus marking the resting-place of tfa^, .^^^^orin^s i 

in the Tower, supposed to l>o tbose of th^ Jxt;^^ y 

dered by Richard III. ^^.^j^ tbe tc 

The nine chapels of tlio stl3l>ey are crowd ^^^ ryix-t^^ ^^^ 

and monuments of kings an^ others of voy^^ ^^xraJ^ ""^^^ 

the time of George II., ^w^l^eii ^Windsor ^^®*^^^^^c? 

Tcpository of the royal rcTrxaixis. Besides ™^^^^^^^* 

of noble birth, I noticoA t^lxose of men wbo ^,^ 

deeds and gifts of greati inventions to ma»^^^ 

\ames that will outlive m-axiy of royal blood, i» ^^_^ 

/hapels. In the Chapel ol" St. Paul tberc is a ^^^ 

A James Watt, who so cLeveloped the wondert^^ 

*team; one of Thomas Telford, in the Chapel 

/rho died in 1834, wlio. Toy bis extraordinary talc» 

/ducation, raised himsolf from the position of orf> 

i shepherd to one of tlxo xixost enunent engineers 

Also the tablet to Sir H^imphrey Davy. In the > 

IS a full-length statixo of IMlrs. Siddons, the tragic 

174 AN empire's dust. 

Besides these, there were in this chapel two wonderfully 
executed monumental groups, that attracted my attention. 
One represented a tomb, from the half-opened marble doors 
of which a figure of Death has just issued, and is in the very 
act of casting his dart at a lady who is sinking affrighted into 
the arms of her husband, who is rising startled from his seat 
upon the top of the tomb. The life-like attitude and expres- 
sion of affright of these two figures are wonderful, while the 
figm'e of Death, with the shroud half falling ofl^ revealing 
the fleshless ribs, skull, and bones of the full-length skeleton, 
is somethins: a little short of terrible in its marvellous execu- 
tion. The other group was a monument to Sir Francis Vere, 
who was a great soldier in Elizabeth's time, and died in 1608. 
It is a tablet supported upon the shoulders of four knights, 
of life size, kneeling. Upon the tablet lie the different parts 
of a complete suit of armor, and underneath, upon a sort of 
alabaster quilt, rests the eflSgy of Sir Francis. The kneeling 
figures of the knights are. represented as dressed in armor 
suits, which are faithfully and elaborately carved by the 

While walking among the numerous and pretentious mon- 
uments of kings and princes, we were informed by the guide, 
who with bunch of keys opened the various chapels to our 
explorations, that many a royal personage, whose name 
helped to fill out the pages of England's history, slumbered 
almost beneath our very feet, without a stone to mark their 
resting-place. Among these was the grave of the merry 
monarch, Charles II. ; and the fact that not one of the vast 
swarm of sycophantic friends that lived upon him, and basked 
in the sunshine of his prodigality, had thought enough of 
him to rear a tribute to his memory, was something of an 
illustration of the hoUowness and heartlessness of that class 
of favorites and fiiends. 

Although I made two or three visits to the abbey, the time 
allowed in these chapels by the guides was altogether too 
short to study the elaborate and splendid works of sculpture, 
the curious inscriptions, and, in fact, to almost re-read a por- 


xhb: ro^^^s ^o^^^ that 

. ge monuiaents.^j' ^^ 

tion of England's past bistory- J^ ^J^eace, «« '' "J^ok at 
brought us so completely J"*© -^^^ / g,ocasto^^ 
those kings and princes wbom. xf^& ^^ i,„„pis and 

through the dim distaace of the J^^^^ce at *\*;^o;tain. 
We have only taken a iiasty ^* ^rtome^^^ t^r^avof 

some of the most noteworthy **''%.e,to Ae great Douj 

These are but appendaeres. as it "**' ,, 

the abbey. ^ -^^e nave, north transept 

There are still the south transept,^ '^ ^^ aU crowded with eie 
ambulator}^, choir, and cloistex-s to ^*^^\|-£cis to the memory o 
gant groups of sculpture axid ^^ss-r^"^^^^ as household word 
those whose names are as fli^nrilLar t<^ 

and whose deeds are Englai:i<3.*s liistox';^^*^ rinired for by Am< 
Almost the iii-st portion ol* "tHe abbo^^ \ ^^^^ \^ the son 

icans is the "Poet's Corner,'*' wliich is ^^ ^ .^^ En^-foh 

transept; and here we find "fclio "brightej^t ''^^ r^ t of other w 

erature recorded, not only "ttxose of poc?^^^ . . r. «q 

' "^ 1 / *a xi vain lui o^ 

ers, though, among the foirmor, one \<:>oj^^ J3yron for t 

memorial of one of Englanci's greatest j^<^^^ .'Abbey by 
tribute was refused to liim. in Westiriir:*^ ^^^^^^^^^^ of tl 
countr3rmen, and its absorxco is a bittex* 

ingratitude. r^/ii? Jiistotiana 

Here we stand, surrouniiecL by names ^ n^tor^ "^^ ^ 
light to chronicle, poets to sing, and ^^^^ j-4:>oson. 
Here looks out the meaallion portrait of J> ixisc^^^^^^^ 
laureate, died 1627, wit^lx tlie weU-kno^m 
neath, — 

t< o T-ai'e 33en Jonson." 

There stands the bust o^ :B\itler, author ^^^ ^^ 
wdth laurel, beneatli wlxicl:i is an insenpu 

"Lest he who (when^o:> was destitute of fj^^^^%t,'^^ 

dead) want like wi«o e. "-<>^-^^"*^J^^^,^^^^^^^ 

London, l^^ taken sure by placing this 
0t,orkO over him. 171-^. 


All honor to John Barber. He has done what many a king's 
worldly friends have failed to do for the monarch they flat- 
tered and cajoled in the sunshine of his prosperity, and in 
so doing preserved his own name to posterity. 

A tablet marks the resting-place of Spenser, author of 
" The Faerie Queen," and near at hand is a bust of Milton. 
The marble figure of a lyric muse holds a medalli9n of the 
poet Gray, who died in 1771. The handsome monument of 
Matthew Prior, the poet and diplomatist, is a bust, resting 
upon a sarcophagus guarded by two full-length marble stat- 
ues of Thalia and History, above which is a cornice, sur- 
mounted by cherubs, the inscription wiitten by himself as 
follows : — • 

** Nobles and heralds, by your leave, 

Here lies what once was Matthew Prior, 
The son of Adam and of Eve — 
Can Bourbon or Nassau claim liigher? '* 

Not far from this monument I found one of a youth 
crowning a bust, beneath which were theatrical emblems, the 
inscription stating it was to Barton Booth, an actor and poet, 
who died in 1733, and was the original Cato in Addison's 
tragedy of that name. 

The tomb of Geofirey Chaucer — the father of English 
poetry, as he is called — is an ancient, altar-like structure, 
with a cai'ved Gothic canopy above it. The inscription 
tells us, — 

" Of English bards who sung the sweetest strains. 
Old Geoffrey Chaucer now this tomb contains ; 
For his death*s date, if, reader, thou shouldst call. 
Look but beneath, and it will tell thee all." 

** 25 October, 1400." 

John Dryden's bust, erected by Sheffield, Duke of Buck- 
ingham, in 1720, bears upon its pedestal the following lines, 
by Pope : — 

'< This Sheffield raised ; the sacred dust below 
Was Dryden once — the rest who does not know ? " 


th stdtue to 

Thomas CampbeU, tho j>oe^ i^^ ^ >?^/ ^£1^ hfn<^' ^fj 

ids memory, representing lii™, ^^^'^^^etst of Soathey, poet 

the lyre at his feet; and near by i;^ ^^^ , ^ 

laureate, who died in 1843. ^^eare, ^P^'^"" f ^^d^ 

The well-known statue <>£ S^aJfe^^^^ooto resting on a pe 

mmiortal bard leaning upon a pile ^^^.^^liicb ave inscnbeci un 
ostal, and^ supporting a scroll, upoX^ - j^l^ of couise^ claim our 
from his play of " The Tempest,'' ^i x^r on ^liich tlie statue 
attention. Upon the base of tlie p^*^^^^-y Y.,B.ichardll-,»^^ 
leans are the sculptured hc£i.cls of IJ^'^ 

Queen Elizabeth. ^ ^ monument repre- 

Thomson, author of the Soa.8ons, ^^^y^Q pedestal of winch 
scnting him in a sitting posit^ioxi, uporx * - Gav's is a Cupid 
representations of the seasons ai-e cax-v^ ^3<^- couplets :— 

unveiUng a medallion of tho p>oet, and ^:>^^^ 

" Life is a jest, an cl all tilings sIbO^^^ •* ' „ 
I thought 80 once, \>u.t now I Icia^^'*^' 

-^ *22e Nine Muse 
On a pedestal, around wliioli are gi'oujp^^^^ , bears tl 

stands the statue of Addis oxk, and a tabic? ^ ^* Ho died in 177 
familiar pix)filc likeness of Oliver Goldsmiti*^^ or£?e Frederi 

There is a large marble xn.onument Xxy *-^*'*' standing, ^^ 
Handel, which represents -fclie great musio-i^^^ ^ Kstrp a^< 
an organ behind him, and. sxxil angel playing ^P rnexm *^ ^^ 
it, while at his feet are groixped musical instil ^ ^lot^'s^ t.o 
pery. Another very ela\>o ratio marble group ^^^^^^^fee 
memory of David Garriok:, -w^liicb represents ^ .^^ "*^ Wv 
of tho great actor, staxK^liiig, and throwing ^^ ^xm- '^^^ ! 
hand a curtain. At tlie \>ase of the pedestal ^^^^y^ ^^^ 
statue rests are seated, lifo-size figures of "^^^^^ ^^^^^\ 
edy. The names of otlkoir actors and dramatis ^ ^X^^^ 
upon tablets in the paveTTnicxit : Beauntiont, upon 
Dryden's monument, X^icliard Brinsley ^^"^ L^ 
land, &c. ; and one of tlxo xecent additions m tn 
ner was a marble bust of Thackeray. . 

In the nave I vio^iv^oa. ^iwith some interest a 
Isaac Watts, D. X>., Avlxose hymns are bo 



among the earliest impressed upon the infant minil. Hero 
in the nave are a host of monuments, tablets, and bass-reliefe 
to naval and militaiy heroes, scholars, and professors ; one, to 
Dr. Andrew Bell, represents him in his arm-chair (bass-relief), 
Bun-ounded by his pupils ; another, to a president of the Royal 
Society, represents him surrounded by books and manuscripts, 
globes, scientific instruments, &c. General George Wade 
has a great trophy of arms raised upon a sarcophagus, which 
a figure of Time is represented as advancing to destroy, but 
whom Fame prevents. In the wall, in bass-relief, we found a 
gi*oup representing the flag of tmce conveyed to General 
Washington, asking the life of Major Andre. This group is 
cut upon a sarcophagus, over which Britannia is represented 
weeping, and is the monument to that young officer, who was 
executed as a spy in the war of the American Revolution. 
Another monument, which attracts the attention of Amer- 
icans, is that erected to a Colonel Roger ToT^nsend, who was 
killed by a cannon ball while recconnoitring the French lines 
at Ticonderoga, in 1759 ; it is a pyramid of red and white 
marble, against which are the figures of two American Indians 
in war costume, supporting a sarcophagus, on which is a fine 
bass-relief, representing the death on the battle-field. 

There arc other modem monuments of very elaborate and 
curious designs, which are. of immense detail for such work, 
and must have involved a vast deal of labor and expense ; as, 
for instance, that to General Hargrave, governor of Gibraltar, 
died in 1750, which is designed to represent the discomfiture 
of Death by Time, and the resurrection of the Just on the 
Day of Judgment. The figure of the general is represented 
ns starting, reaninaated, from the tomb, and behind him a 
pjrramid is tumbling into ruins, while Time has seized Death, 
and is hurling him to the earth, after breaking his fatal dart. 
Another is that to Admiral Richard Tyrrell, in which the 
rocks are represented as being rent asunder, and the sea giv- 
ing up its dead ; upon one side is the admiraFs ship, upon 
which a figure stands pointing upwards to the admiral, who 
is seen ascending amid the marble clouds, y ' 

of C oS.^«''"«*^<^ ^'nbletSZ and next it is the grave 
-buried ,?^'i'^ **« actress, ^^, the guide tels us, was 
with a lit " *°^ Bru«se2« laZ^^^'^'^''' * i^"' '^ 

orator, at full len^. f *^ ***«<3 1 806. "^'^ represe^ the gieat 

^«toT, renrel'"? ^' f ^^^ ««* of adclx-^s^^g the House, wbiU 

o*' the^des^^r • ^ * ^""-longth ^^^ seated at the bas( 

l«»gth figuHf a "^r J»S his Wci;^, and Anarchy, a full 

monument erepf«/i u** "^an, sits l».-«=»Mnd with chains. ^ 

of Chatham, who ditd^^S'^^"* *<> -^Villiam Pitt, the Ear 

more elaborate It ^ ' ' ^» stands in .«. j-cceas, and is mucl 

speaking; and belowT.'^^**'**® ^"° se^xi^ing in the act ol 

Jfe-size figures __Pn,'jf**"^®^ round a /^xi^oophagns, are fiv< 

Britannia. Thia «y.a* ^^' -F'ortitude, JVe^/>tune, Peace, anc 

sterling. ^ ^'^'^ group cost six tbouaand poundi 

these interesting ^^^^^^^S "the notes rraa<J« o^ my visits t< 
ft% a reheareal ofT'^ ^'^"^^ ""^ '^o grea*, ^i^^* ^^ting ou 
•^•ts desimed Jn ^ °^^rr».oranda wouia eartoDtJ l»eyond th 
ments to Pot tiT ® sketches. There were tlie mo« 

fa'eelbg at h J ftt! «ta*e8«xan, with Peace and *:b« ^^^ 
opherafdmall:-'? ®*^^ Isaac Newton, tH^ ,^««t piuV 
abolitionist; Wa^ W^ ' ^VVilliam Wilberforce, 
ning, erected bv h^J'^^^^y^^ ' * *°® «***"« **^ 
'^•d's gieatest omL^^^?^ and couutrymen — * 

•^'d's g^^atest oratorT^^?^ v"** cooutiTmen- 

vwiors, of whom Byron wrote, 

o, bred a. Btatesman, still wa« born a wit, 

-Bu:?:LtTfiVr^^^ ^'^^ ^-^ ^-^^'^ ' 

of which may be^JVi '^^^^^P*'™*^' '^'^ ^^-^"^ 
"fription of ♦{ Sf-tliered from the somewhat ' 

C wf ?''^ ^"^^^^^y mentioned. 

"> ^fi have seexi. 'W*.«t.«:„>*„_ * t-v__ m 

Av estminster Abbey, 

xw xii^^ujorx \fB ox^araM — ojijmia^^jh 

next P There is so much to seei in London, and time is so 
short, weeks, months, might be spent here in hunting up 
the various interesting sights that we have stowed away in 
the storehouse of memory, for the time that we should need 

First, there are the scenes of the solid, square, historical 
facts, which, with care and labor, were taken in like heavy 
merchandise in school-boy days. The very points, localities, 
churches, prisons, and buildings where the events of histoi-y, 
that figure in our school-books, took place ; where we may 
look upon the very finger-marks, as it were, that the great, 
the good, the wicked, and the tyrannical have left behind 
them. Then there are the scenes that poets and novelists 
have thrown a halo of romance around, and those whose 
common evei^-day expressions are as familiar in America as 
in England. 

What young American, who has longed to visit London, 
and who, on his first morning there, as he prepares himself 
with all the luxurious feeling of one about to realize years of 
anticipation, but that runs over in his mind all that he has, 
time and again, read of in this great city, in history, story, and 
in fable, and the memory of the inward wish, or resolve, that 
he has often made to some day see them all ? Now, which 
way to turn ? Here they all are — Westminster Abbey, British 
Museimi, St. Paul's, Old London Bridge, Hyde Park, Bank 
of England, Zoological Gardens, the Tower, the Theatres, 
Buckingham Palace, River Thames, and he has two or three 
weeks before going to the continent. 
A great many things may be seen in thre^ weeks. 
That is very true in the manner that man^r ^^ ^^ ^OV\T\\tV 
men, who look merely at the face of ^ ^ -W^^^^^A ^' 
home their empty words, see them ; buf ^^ ^^^^r" ^^tv^ 
first visit abroad, before he has half a ^^ ^h^^ ^^ ^x N ^ 
once, begins to ascertain what a trenj ^^h ^^ f ^' ^'' 
sight-seeing is. ^^^Oi ^Alf 

In London I have met America /**vl/J 

keenest desire to visit aome of the stre ^ ^ 

."<"<■ of., 
'"W by , . ' 

<"• CbSpi' 

But Vr ''"8' 
•»e, ''"'San 

•"«« of 1, "•'We 
'"'tbal"" "' Vt 

£'■'''.« a" '"° 


arches of the latter; but at some of them, whose arches were 
evidently constructed before steam passages of this kind were 
dreamed o^ the arches were so low that the smoke-pipe, con- 
structed with a hinge for that purpose, was lowered back- 
wards flat to the deck, and after passing the arch, at once 
resumed its upright position. Landing not fg,r from Kew 
Green, we pursued our way along a road evidently used by 
the common classes, who came out here for Sunday excur- 
sions, for it was past a series of little back gardens of houses, 
apparently of mechanics, who turned an honest penny by 
fitting up these little plots into cheap tea gardens, by mak- 
ing arbors of hop vines or cheap running plants, beneath 
which tables were spread, and signs, in various styles of or- 
thography, infoimed the pedestrian that hot tea and tea 
cakes were always ready, or that boiling water could be had 
by those wishing to make their own tea, and that excursion 
parties could "take tea in the arbor" at a very moderate 

Kew Gardens contain nearly three hundred and fifty 
acres, and are open to the public every afternoon, Sunday 
not excepted. Upon the latter day, which was when I visited 
them, thcrc are — if the weather is pleasant — from ten to 
twelve thousand people, chiefly of the lower orders, present ; 
but the very best of order prevailed, and all seemed to be 
enjoying themselves very much. Beside the tea gardens, on 
the road of approach, just outside the gardens, there were 
every species of hucksters' refreshments — all kinds of buns, 
cakes, fruits, Ac, in little booths and stands of those who 
vended them, for the refreshment of little family parties, or 
individuals wlio had come from London here to pass the 
day. Hot waflies were baked and sold at two pence each, as 
fast as the vender could turn his hand to it ; an uncertain 
sort of coffee at two pence a cup, and tea ditto, were served 
out by a vender from a portable urn kept hot by a spirit 
lamp beneath it ; and servant girls out for a holiday, wouk 
men with their wives and children, shop-boys and shop-men, 
and thi^ongs of work people, were streaming on in through t^e 

,i- wan<3j. ^^'^oo of clo™ 

sa-Tid patienJ'^- ^^^ ^ouo-k ° ^1^^:^°* baskets; 

^ork beside i^"^*" paddle • ! '^'^''S:*' '"*« ^n 
^ iind,and th' '^"Pl© and • ^'^ lance-wood, 

or a^ 



to se<3 

is mvxsevx^ 

hort, l>ri^^ 
It us to tl^^ 

Hill, whex^ 
icinity ^^* 

^^-ovk beside i*-^"" paddle • ! '^''^^ '"*» a" 
L,-yr iind,and *^' '^"ple an^ • ^'^ lance-wood, 
-*^ of, from disV '^ «umero«« "' '^'"^"^ P^'^^'s ; 
'^^^ain, othei *'*'** ^^nds a^ ^o^derful woods 
.^liJig lightne^^'^^'ious ij, ^'"^ brilliant in hue 
^ camphor, ^i^^,' ^l»onv n^J*""' ^'^ wondrous 

^' ^norcs. solid^^'^r and en *=°*-^o«d ; bam- 
^^ stems of th ^'^^er fromT^'^^^^**' ^^"^^^ 
iinextensivf^** **'^pics t! ®"P<'''^*«» and 

aro***^^ stems of th **'^«' from t^'^^**^^' stunted 
:ei>«"^V^ i»n extensive ** **'^Pics t! ^"P*'''^*®' and 
o ^vl»^*^ ^f the diffe,5/'^»'ious, ani -"^"^ '"^'^"^ ««*«n- 
L^se^**** :r-»<3^ <>f little ^^ootls "^ .V**®«sting colleo, 

bi-is*^ ,^-elebrated »^ **^ore tha '«'orld formed. 

to tt*^ ,^::r»« of the mo **»^ Gai2 * ^'^"P^® '^^ '"'^es, 
tiui, whei^^^ondon can K^* ^^autifuJ^'' ^o*«'* »* RJci- 
vicinity o^ ;^ a high ter-^ '^***ained "^^^h landscapes 
ituated vi^^*Z^os far bel^r**^^» com,^* ^^e hotel, which 
t>f the Tl^^tf covintry of T *^ in ^'''*^®*^ «n extensive 
* a woo ^-^-^ nee. This j/^^^I and ? ?^'''°'« windings 
«. tie di^- ^f the aristoe,?''««. so l^\ ^'^h Windsor 
a„I'^«^^*»^^°*^P''ik, in ""^J itstl^*^ '° novels and 
Ct^:j*i^-^^' --Vdo^'^o in.;'4^J-d galena a. 
■ith ^ ^ ^^ uipages ^ _, ^ *^^ery aft ^'cmity, with 

tti^ix- SiTO in grace ^***Pa»e«i V^^^oon during the 

\ . «cr«**^ :rork. ^ and ele ^^^^ver, which do 

aric, }sr^ "* ^ pleasantei- s^nce with those of 

r^** be? "^Jas*" *bedi^j r'^ace to . 
^ ^a>^^ ^^iodows thi!!5'*"ooni o/*' and tiine of an 
f broi**=*^ .t^J-^-^cesand ^^^ open ^^^ Star and Gaiv 
"b th^**'^^^ "cb ia gr^'^^'elied J*Pon the beautiful 

'^ ,^it the «. s. P^-On.^^ ®°*^ oniamcntal 

^""' '^'"anar. ***»adera passmg to 

'Jas been destroyed 

THE obigi:n^al wax wobks. 185 

and fro, enjoying the scene. For more than a hiindi'ed feet 
below flashes the river, meandering on its crooked course, 
with pleasure-boats, great and small, sporting upon it; and, 
perched upon hill-sides and in pleasant nooks, here and there, 
are the beautiful villas of the aristocracy and wealthy people. 
The dinner was good, and served with true English disregard 
of time, requhing about two hours or less to accomplish it; 
but the attendance was excellent, and the price of the enter- 
tainment could be only rivalled in America by one person — 

But then one must dine at the Star and Garter in order to 
answer affirmatively the question of every Englishman who 
learns that you have been to Richmond Hill, and who is as 
much gi'atified to hear the cuisine and excellent wines of this 
hotel extolled by the visitor, as the splendid panoramic view 
from its windows, or the wild and natural beauties of the 
magnificent great park in the immediate neighborhood. 


If there is any one exliibition that seems to possess interest 
to the inhabitants of the rural districts of both America and 
England, it is "wax works." Mrs. Jarley understood the 
taste of the English public in this du'ection, if we are to be- 
lieve her celebrated chronicler. Artemus Ward commenced 
his career with his celebrated collection of "wax figgere;" and 
one of the sights of London, at the present day, — and a sight, 
let me assure the reader, that is well worth the seeing, — is 
Madame Tui^saud'a "exhibition of distinguished characters." 

Let iiOt the unsophisticated reaier suppose that this is a 
collection of frightful caricatures, similar to those he has seen 
at travelling exhibitions or cheap shows, where one sees the 
same figure that has done dul^y as Semmes, the pirate, trans- 
formed, by change of costume, into the Duke of Wellington, 




W^ owi's; *r.r ' ^:^^,z. ««™«" -22 

tivoof anoia p. ^othing of the sort Madame 

Paris, m ^^^ '/ tnown^n^ , I ' "'^ ^^ *^e oWest exhibi- 

tlonome ^^3^uU kee" u "^I^'^Sh the celebnited Madame 

is dead, her ^^"^^y^^^P "P the exhibition, improving upon 

it each season, a»^ uispiay an iiiiDo^jirin. v *^ t>i ^ 

upon their catalogue, among whom S, ^ '^ noble patron, 

Aih -t L. is XVin., the lat T\ ^^^ *"® names of pTince 

The pri^e of admission is a^gJlJl® of Wellington, &c. 
is charged torvisit the Chamber oTw'^ additional sixpence 
costs the visitor another sixpence /o t^T^/ ""^ / ^^'^l^'^^^ 
affixir, but richly worth it. -f^^^ exhlhif '* ''•* two^hilhng 
of rooms, in which the figures, thre« » ^ ''?"**^ "^ u ^''"^' 
classified and arranged. The fi^t T » ^^^ '° number, are 
ignated the Hall of Kings, and con?""*!,'"'* '°*2 """^ "^ 
Idngs and queens, from William thTo'"'** ^^ ^fT °^ 
they were all richly clad in appropriate **"'™'" *** J 

with mail and weapons, and iith S* '^,"*»°»eS' ««™^ ?™/^ 
so artistically and strikingly natural ^f/ °'^'' """^^ ^f ?v ^' 
marvellous semblance of reality A^ *° startle one by their 
ments, and arms are exact copies of tr" ^^^ costumes, oma. 
periods, and the catalogue asseils thfr*! "^^^ ** ^^"^ Tn * 
modeUed from the best portraits anTt *^ ^^««* ""^ carefully 

Here are William the Conqueror ^'l*^"*^! atitlxonties 

here is William Rufus, with hil ^ J , ''''^ Ws Qvaeen Matilda ; 

lierc stands Richard I. (Cffiur de Li ^ ^ ""*^ covetous brow; 

in shirt of chain-mail ; and therp ^^v-*' ^»8 *»" Gs^re enclosed 

froivn and clinched hand, as if enl' ^"flT Jotxn, ^ith dark 

him to yield to the revolting hlrZ^ *^e fate tHa* compelled 

Edward III. and his Queen.^Pt^^^^^^^ ^'^^ «i^ ^V^agna Charta; 

die of the order of kJghth^od fP> **»« ll?lr ^«'^""? ^S^'" 

noble, valiant son, the Black p '"^ ^^^a^f u^*-^' ^^T^'^ 

looking every i„eh a wanior "T "^ a >!* S^^ifi^^""* ^^"^ 

-^"^^ *^^ succeeded in faTe, '^f^ We **^^^1«^*°- ^« 

^ costume, J, ^ ^^^t,*ae m repre- 

M rot* 


BeutiDg in this work one of th 

looking figures I ever looked \ 

again and again, to turn and gazt i 

embodiment of nobleness and bn ! 

in poetry and romance, but nc 

Among others of gi-eat merit was 

in his coronation robes, who was c 

man of his time ; and Richard III. i ; 

of the period, and the face copied i 

owned by the Duke of Norfolk ; 1 

splendid costume in which he figm i 

Westminster Abbey ; and then bluff c 

in a full suit of armor, as worn by hi I 

Cloth of Gold. 

Queen Mary (Bloody Mary) in he i 

comes Queen Elizabeth, dressed exactly 
well-known picture at Hampton Court ! 

the splendid suit of chevalier armor of \ 
Cromwell in his russet boots, leather sure 
breastplate, broad hat, and coarse, square 1 ; 

in the robes of the Order of St. Patrick ; i 

IV. in that stunning costume of silk stock : 

and the robes of the Order of the Garter c 
figures in the picture that we are all so fant 

Then wo have Victoria and her whole fan i 
group in point of numbers, very well exec 
clad in rich and fashionably-made costumes i 
are veritable court di-esses, which have been i 
being cast aside by the wearers. Certainly th« 
figm*es must be a heavy expense, as is evidei i 
casual observer. 

So much for the hall of English sovereigni 
statues embrace representations of other monar I 
brated personages. Nicholas I. of Russia's tall ] 
up in his uniform of Russian Guards ; Napoleon 1 
St. Amaud, and General Canrobert in their dress( 
generals; Abdul Medjid in full Tm*kish costur 
Empress Eugenie in a splendid court dress. 


A rery fine figure of Charlemagne in full armor, equipped 
for battle, which was manufactured for the great exhibition 
of 1862, is a splendid specimen of figure-work and modem 
armor manufacture. Then we came to a fine figure of "Wol 
sey in his cardinal's dress. Mrs. Siddons in the character of 
Queen Katherine, Macready as Coriolanus, and Charles Keaii 
as Macbeth, are evidence that the theatrical profession is re- 
membered, while Knox, Calvin, and Wesley indicate attention 
to the clergy. 

The few American figures were for the most part cheaper 
affairs than the rest of the collection, and might be suspected, 
some of them, of being old ones altered to suit the times. 
For instance, that of General McClellan, President Lincoln 
and his Assassin, George "Wilkes Booth, as the catalogue has 
it, would hardly pass for likenesses. 

There is a very natural, life-Hke-looking figure of Madame 
Tussaud herself, a little old lady in a large old-fashioned bon- 
net, looking at a couch upon which reposes a splendid figure 
of a Sleeping Beauty, so arranged with clock-work that the 
bosom rises and falls in regular pulsations, as if breathing 
and asleep. Madame Tussaud died in 1850, at the age of 
ninety years. 

A very clever deception is that of an old gentleman, seated 
in the middle of a bench, holding a programme in his hand, 
and apparently studying a large gi-oup of figures. By an in- 
genious oj)eration of machinery, he is made to occasionally 
raise his head from the paper he is so carefully penising, and 
regard the group in the most natural manner possible, and 
afterwards resume his study. This figure is repeatedly taken 
by strangera to be a living pcreon, and questions or obscr/a- 
tions are frequently addressed to it. One of my own party 
politely solicited the loan of the old gentleman's programme 
a moment, and only discovered, from the wooden character 
of the shoulder he laid his hanji on, why he was not answered. 
Ere long he had the satisfaction of witnessing another person 
ask the quiet old gentleman to " move along a bit," and re- 
peat the request till the smothered laughter of the spectatoi-s 
revealed the deception. 

""•■«■, of 

the CO,. «"^ata 
'"'"Vr!,- '" " 

J!"" also i,,? °« 


* cl^ 


veterate relio-hunter. I give a few more that are pencilled in 
my note-book as attracting my own attention ; the atlas that 
Bonaparte used many years, and on which are the plans of 
several battles sketched by his own hand, — a most sugges- 
tive relic this of the anxious hours spent in poring over it 
by the great captain, who marked out on this little volume 
those plans which cmmbled kingdoms and dissolved dynas- 
ties ; simple sketches to look upon, but which were once 
fraught with the fate of nations, — his dessert services, locks 
of his hair, camp service, shirts, under-waistcoats, and linen 
handkerchiefs, pieces of furniture, &c. Besides this large 
collection of relics of the great emperor, there ai*e a number 
of other interesting historical relics of undoubted authenticity, 
such as the • ribbon of Lord Nelson, a lock of Wellington'*s 
^hair, George IV.'s handkerchief, the shirt of Henry IV. of 
France, the very one worn by him when assassinated by 
Ravaillac, and stained with the blood which followed the 
murderous knife, Lord Nelson's coat, the shoe of Pius VI., a 
ribbon of the Legion of Honor worn by Louis Philippe, coat 
and waistcoat of the Duke of Wellington, and, in a glass 
case, the three great state robes of George IV. These are 
of puq^le and crimson velvet, lined with ermine, and richly 
embroidered, the " three together containing five hundred and 
sixty-seven feet of velvet and embroidery," — so the catalogue 
tells you, — " and costing eighteen thousand pounds." 

The last department of this exhibition is one the name of 
which is quite familiar, and often quoted by American read- 
ers, viz., the Chamber of Horrors. The collection here is of 
figures of noted murderers and criminals, said to be portraits 
of the originals, and various models and relics. Perhaps the 
most interesting of the latter to the spectator is the original 
knife of the guillotine, used duiing the Reign of Terror in 
Paris. This axe, the catalogue tells us, was bought by Ma- 
dame Tussaud of Sanson, grandson of the original execu- 
tioner; and the now harmless-looking iron blade, that the 
spectator may lay his hands upon, is the terrible instrument 
that decapitated over twenty thousand human victims. It 

has reeked with, 
tyrannical — the 
The visitor majr 
touches the cold e 
the unfortunate 2 
Robespierre, an^ 
yielded up their 11 
this Chamber of . 
the sight-seer. I fe 
breathed freer es 1 
pursuit fi-om some 
through the thron< 
Theatre-going in 
the theatres — that: 
is no chance for pe< 
sirable places that < 
selling the admissi< 
no theatre in Lonclc 
equal in all respect^s 
cities, and nothing 
York, or the Gloloe^ 
an entertainment £i 
Wallack's, or tho <3-l 
For instance, ati 3 
one dollar and 
lar and twenty- 
cents ; gallery, t*TV 
« stalls " take In 
and that some 
draught of the 
the stage, are ^C5xx 
is a "pit" incloci ~ 
way so clean, ^vv 
American tUoct't.^' 
old dirty E 
tony and CleoX>* 
Miss Gl^-n 


and fifty cents, gold, and the pit, which was way back under 
the boxes, was vocal between the acts with venders of oranges, 
nuts, and ginger beer. 

The Lyceum Theatre, where I saw Fechter play, was a 
neat and well-ordered establishment, and stalls, one dollar 
and sixty cents ; upper circle, one dollar ; pit, fifty cents. 1 
give the prices in American money, gold, that they may be 
compai-ed with our own. There is not a theatre in London 
where a performance, and accommodation to the auditor 
equal to that at the Boston Museum, can be had for three 
times the price of admission to that establishment. The 
prices above given being about the average at the leading 
theatres, what does the reader expect he will have to pay for 
the opera ? Let us see. 

At Her Majesty's Theatre, where I had the pleasure of 
listening to Nilsson in Traviata and Titiens, in Oberon, Fi- 
delio, <fcc., my play-bill informs me the prices are, pit stalls, 
fifteen shillings (about three dollars and forty cents in gold), 
boxes, two dollars and a half, and gallery, sixty cents. The 
pit, at this theatre, consists of four or five rows of narrow 
boards, at the extreme rear of the parquet, purposely made 
as nan'ow, imcomfortable, and inconvenient as can be, so 
that it is almost impossible to sit through a performance on 
them ; yet, during the one act that I occupied a seat there, it 
was nearly filled with very respectable people, in full dress, 
no one being admitted who is not so costumed. I presume 
that the labor expended to render these seats disagreeable, is 
to force the public into the higher-priced ones, which are easy, 
comfortable, and even luxurious, and where one may be 
pretty sure that he is in the best society. 

An American lady, who goes to the theatre or opera in 
London, must remember that she will not be permitted to 
enter the stalls or boxes with a bonnet on, no matter how 
infinitesimal, elegant, or expensive it may be. Full dress 
means, no bonnet for ladies, and dress coats, dark vests and 
pantaloons for gentlemien. A lady seen passing in with bon- 
net on is expected to leave it at the cloak-room, to be re* 

deiimed : 

amoant < : 

voter, wl 

saw an i : 

coat diffi< I 

to pin up 

so that il 

passed wi 

Bills ol 


the theatr 

gloves wi 

pence, of 

" expects 

the opera 

that " the 

as copper 

the afores 

briskly a 

learned I 

change, a: 

ready, aft 

We nc 


New Toi 

the best 

grand va 

ments, oi 

drama is 




shawls, a 

is interci 

dress, ho 

to compj 



SO muoh display of their channs. Upon the stage, such «»• 
dressing of the neck and bust would excite severe criticiam, 
but in the fashionable boxes of the opera, it passes unchal- 

The liberal encouragement which the opera receives in 
England enables the management to produce it in far more 
cx)mplete and perfect style than it is usually seen in America. 
Indeed, some of the wretched, slipshod performances tha'.; 
have been given under the name of grand opera in America, 
would ba hissed fix)m the stage in London, Paris, or Italy. 
In operatic performances in America, we have the pai-ts of 
two or three principals well done, but all else slipshod and 
imperfect, and the effect of the opera itself too frequently 
marred by the outrageous cuttings, transpositions, and altera- 
tions made by managers to adapt it to their resources. 

I'he production of the opera in London is made with an 
orchestra of nearly a hundi'cd performers, a well-trained cho- 
rus of sixty voices, dresses of great elegance, and correct and 
^appropriate costume and style, even to the humblest per- 
foimer. The opera, in all its details, is well performed, aad 
the music correctly given; the scenery and scenic effects 
excellent, the auxiliaries abundant, so that a stage army 
looks something like an army, and not a corporal's guard; a 
village festival something like that rustic celebration, and not 
hke the caperings of a few Hibernians, who have plundered 
a pawnbroker's shop, and are dancing in the stolen clothes. 

Apropos of amusements, a veiy pleasant excursion is it by 
rail to the Sydenham Crystal Palace, where great cheap con- 
certs are given, and one of those places in England where 
the people can get so much amusement, entertainment, and 
recreation for so little money. A ticket, including admission 
to the palace and grounds, and passage to and from London 
on the railroad, is sold at a very low sum, the entertainment 
being generally on Saturdays, which, with many, is a half 
holiday. Two of the London railways unite in a large, hand« 
some station at Sydenham, from which one may walk under 
a broad, covered passage directly into the palace, this cov- 


ered way being a colonnade seven hundred and twenty feet 
long, seventeen feet wide, and twenty feet high, reaching 
one of the great wmgs of the palace. 

And this magnificent structure, its splendid grounds and 
endless museum of novelties, is a monument of English pub- 
lic spirit and liberality ; for it was planned, erected, and the 
whole enterprise carried out by a number of gentlemen, who 
believed that a permanent edifice, like the one which held the 
great exhibition in Hyde Park in 1851, would be of great 
benefit in furthering the education of the people, and affording 
sensible and innocent recreation at the cheapest possible rate. 
And right nobly have they performed their work in the pro- 
duction of this magnificent structure, which fairly staggers 
the American visitor by its beauty, as well as its vastness, 
and its wondrous gi*ace and lightness. It is a great monu- 
ment of graceful curves and flashing glass, situated upon the 
summit of a gradual slope, with superb broad terraces, 
adorned with statues, grand flights of steps descending to 
elegantly laid out grounds, with shrubs, flowers, trees, foun- 
tains, ponds, rustic arbors, and beautiful walks; and these 
front terraces and grounds commanding one of those splendid 
landscape pictures for which England is so celebrated. 

There is no better way of giving the reader an idea of the 
size of this magnificent structure, than by means of a few 
figures. The palace was completed in 1854 by a joint-stock 
company of gentlemen. It occupies, with its gardens and 
grounds, about three hundred acres, and cost, when com- 
pleted, with its gardens, nearly two million pounds sterling. 
Think of the public being able to visit this splendid place 
for one shilling ! 

The length of the main building of the palace is over six- 
teen hundred feet ; the width throughout the nave, three hur- 
dred and twelve feet, which, at the grand centre, is increased 
to three hundred and eighty-four feet ; in addition to which 
are two great wings, of five hundred and seventy-four feet 
each ; the height, from floor to ceiling, one hundred and ten 
feet ; twenty-five acres of glass, weighing five hundred tons. 


were used in the building, and nine thousand six hundred 
and forty-one tons of iron. Graceful galleries run around the 
sides, and grand mammoth concerts and other entertainments 
are given in the central transept, the arch of which rises in 
a graceful span to the height of one hundred and seventy-five 
feet : the whole of one end of this transept is occupied by 
seats, rising one above the other, for the accommodation of 
lour thousand perfrrmers, who performed at the great Handel 
Festival.. A great organ, built' expressly for the place, occu- 
pies a position at the rear of these orchestra seats. 

I was present at a grand musical performance in this tran- 
sept, and, from an elevated seat in the orchestra, had a superb 
view of the whole audience below, which occupied chairs 
placed in the transept; these chairs which now faced the 
organ and orchestra, when turned directly about, would face 
the stage of a theatre, upon which other performances were 
given. The view of the crowd, from the elevated position I 
occupied, gave it the appearance of a huge variegated flower- 
bed, and its size may be realized when the reader is informed 
that there were eiffht thousand people present ; besides these, 
there were between three and four thousand more in different 
parts of the building and grounds. I obtained these figures 
fr'om the official authorities, who informed me that on greater 
occasions, when the performance is more attractive, or upon 
whole holidays, the number is very much larger. 

The nave is divided into sections, or courts; such as the 
Sheffield Court, Manufacturing Court, Glass and China Court, 
Stationary Court, Egyptian Court, Italian Court, Renaissance 
Court, &c. These courts are filled with the products of the 
industry or ait of the periods for which they are named. 
Thus, in the English Mediaeval Court are splendid reproduc- 
tions of mediaeval architecture, such as the elegant doorway 
of Rochester Cathedral, doorway of Worcester Cathedral, the 
splendid Easter sepulchre from Hawton Church, the monu- 
ment of Humphrey de Bohun from Hereford Cathedral, with 
the effigy of the knight in complete armor, and various archi- 
tectural specimens from the ancient churches and magnifi- 


extensive pleasure-grounds connected with it, we passed 
through a beautiful shaded lane, and came first to the archery 
grounds, where groups were tiying their skill in that old 
English pastime. Not far from here, a broad, level place, 
with close-cut, hard-rolled turf, was kept for the cricketing 
grounds, where groups of players were scattered here and 
there, enjoying that game. Near by are rifle and pistol shoot- 
ing galleries. In another portion of the grounds is an angling 
and boating lake, a maze, American swings, merry go-arounds, 
and other amusements for the people, the performances of 
those engaged in these games affording entertainment to 
hundreds of lookers-on. 

A whole day may be very pleasantly and profitably spent 
at the Sydenham Palace, the attractions of which we have 
given but the merest sketch of; and that they are appreciated 
by the people is evidenced by the fact that the number of 
visitors are over a million and a half per annum. The rail- 
road companies evidently make a good thing of it, and by 
means of very cheap excursion tickets, especially on holidays, 
induce immense numbers to come out from the city. 

This Crystal Palace is the same one which stood in Hyde 
Park ; only when it rose again at Sydenham, it was with many 
alterations and improvements. It was a sad sight to see, 
when we were there, large portions of the northern end, in- 
cluding that known as the tropical end, — the Assyrian and 
Byzantine Courts, — in ruins from the effects of the fire a few 
yeara ago; yet that destroyed seems small in comparison 
with the immense area still left. 

The parks of London have been described so very oflen 
that we must ^pass them with brief allusion. Their vast ex- 
tent is what first strikes the American visitor with astonish- 
ment, especially those who have moulded their ideas after 
Boston Common, or even Central Park of New York. Hyd() 
Park, in London, contains three hundred and ninety acres ; 
and we took a lounge in Rotten Row at the fashionable 
hour, betweei: five and six in the afternoon, when the drive 
was crowded with stylish equipages; some with coroneted 


panels and liveried footmen, just such as we see in pictui'es. 
Then there were numerous equestrians, among whom were 
gentlemen mounted upon magnificent blood horses, followed 
at a respectful distance by their mounted grooms, and grace- 
fully tipping their hats to the fair occupants of the carriages. 
Mounted policemen, along the whole length of the drive, pre- ' 
vented any carriage from getting out of line or creating con- 
fusion; and really the display of splendid equipages, fine 
horses, and beautiful women, in Hyde Park, of an aflenioon, 
during the season, is one of the sights of London that no 
stranger should miss. 

Every boy in America, who is old enough to read a story- 
book, has heard of the Zoological Gardens at Regent's Park, 
London ; and it is one of the sights that the visitor, no matter 
how short his visit, classes among those he must see. This 
collection of natural history specimens was first opened to 
the public as long ago as 1828; it is one in which the Lon- 
doners take great pride, and the Zoological Society expend 
large sums of money in procuring rare and good living speci- 
mens. Improvements are also made every year in the 
grounds, and the exhibition is now a most superb and ii*- 
teresting one, and conducted in the most liberal manner. 

Visitors are admitted on Mondays at sixpence each ; on 
other days the price of admission is a shilling. Here one has 
an opportunity of seeing bii-ds and animals with sufficient 
space to move about and stretch their limba in, instead of the 
cruelly cramped quarters in which we liave\>ecn accustomed to 
view them confined in travelling menagcnes, so ^^^^^^^^^ 
as to call for action of the Society for tbeYweiit'voTi oi ^^^"^ J^ 
to Animals, to interfere in behalf o£ ^Jae ^^^^^^^^^ ' 
often have only space to stand ut, •„ a:tiA tvoxie to m ^^^^ 

in, although their nature be on^V '^^%^r^^^^^''''TL bv ^^^^^ 

therefore become poor, spiriS ^^^^i»^^^^^ ^^^^ 

torture of close confinement ^^^ ^P^ r^cc^^^* ^^ 

Here, however, the visitoV ^ ^ ^^''^'''t S €^^^^ ^^^f 

eagles, vultures, and other K ^^^S ^ *^^ . o^^s>^'^^ 

twenty feet Jiigi, and nearl v "^^^ Vir^^ "^ ^^V^^'"" ' 


and other birds of prey, with cages big enough to fly about 
in ; ibis, elegant flamingoes, pelicans, and water bu'ds, in large 
enclosures, with ponds for them to enjoy then* flxvorito 
pursuits. For some of the smaller birds aviaries were ar- 
ranged, the size of a large room, part of it out in the open 
tiir, with shrubs and trees, and the other half beneath shelter — 
a necessity for some species of tropical birds. One, therefore, 
might look upon the' flashing plumage and cuiious shapes of 
tropical birds flitting among the trees, and see all colors and 
every variety at the different aviaries. I saw the sea birds 
in a place which, by artificial means, was made to represent 
the sea-shore; there were rocks, marine plants, sea shells, 
sand, and salt water ; and ducks, sandpipers, and gulls dove, 
ran and flew about very much as if they were at home. 
Passing into a house devoted exclusively to parrots, we were 
almost deafened by the shrieking, cat-calls, whistling, and 
screaming of two or three hundred of every hue, size, kind, 
and variety of these birds ; there were gorgeous fellows with 
crimson coronets, and tails a yard in length, — blue, green, 
yellow, crimson, variegated, black, white, in fact every known 
color: the din was temfic^ and the shouting of all sorts of 
pnrrot expressions very funny. 

The collection of birds is very large, from the little wren 
to great stalking ostriches, vultures, and bald eagles, and 
only lacked the great condor of South America. 

The animals were well cared for. Here were a pair of 
huge rhinoceroses enjoying themselves in a large, muddy 
pond in the midst of their enclosure, a stable afforded them 
dry in-door quarters when they chose to go in, and a passage 
through these stables enabled visitors always to see the 
animals when they were in-doors. Two huge liippopotami 
were also similarly provided for. Next came several ele- 
phants, great and small, with outer enclosures, where they 
received donations of buns and fruity and stables for private 
life ; also a splendid specimen of the giraffe, &c. 

There was a vast collection of different specimens of deer, 
from the huge antlered elk to the graceful little gazelle, the 
size of an Enghsh terrier. 


Then we came to the bear-pits. Here sauntered a great 
polar bear in a large enclosui'c, in which a tank of water was 
provided for his bearship to disport himself; a long row of 
great roomy cages of lions, tigers, leopards, and panthere, 
with their supple limbs, sleek hides, and wicked eyes; a 
splendid collection of the wolf, fox, and raccoon tribe ; speci- 
mens of different varieties of sheep ; the alpaca, zebras, cam- 
els, elands, and bison ; enclosed ponds, with magnificent speci- 
mens of water fowl fiom all parts of the world ; then there 
was the beaver pond, with his wood, and his dam, and hut ; 
the seal tank and otter pond, with their occupants not always 
in view, but watched for by a cmious crowd; and, near by, a 
house full of specimens of armadillos, and other small and 
curious animals. 

The reptile house, with its collection of different specimens 
of snakes, from the huge boa constrictor to the small, wicked- 
looking viper, was not a pleasant sight to look upon ; but one 
of the most popular departments of the whole exhibition was 
the monkey house, a building with ample space for displaying 
all the different specimens of this mischievous little carica- 
ture of man. In the centre of the room was a very large 
cage, -fitted up with rings, ladders, trapezes, bars, &c., like a 
gymnasium, and in this the antics of a score of natural acro- 
bats kept the spectators, who are always numerous in this 
apartment, in a continued roar of laughter. 

Not the least amusing peiformance here was that of a huge 
old monkey, the chief of the cage by common consent, who, 
after looking sleepily for some half ^ouy at the performancea 
of hLs lesser brethren from the door ^^^^^^^^^^"^^ Q^Jado, 
nor, suddenly descended, and, as if to ^^^^^ "^^^^ ^Vsetva^^- 
immediately went through the wh^l^ ^^"^""Tu^exe.sNV^^^S 
He swung by t.'ie rings, leaped A ^ ^y^^^""^^^^ L^ ^m^W ^^^- 

from ladder to bar, leaped IoVTiC *^ ^^^"^ ^^^--^ ^^^ 
keys flying and 6creamin<^ i^. ^ ^t^*^ .^^ecUotv, ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^d, 

a general chattering an cf^^,,- ^^^01^ t^-t.5^^^^,vox^^e^>^^^^^^ 
drawing, a piece of old l^j^\^^txg, t^^^^^ ^" t^^uo o\^^^^ 
calmly down upon tie scetj ^^^t al7^- J^^ 
atthe antics of apany ^r ^ b^K t^ 


The young visitors at the Zoolo^cal Gardens have oppor- 
tunity afforded them to ride the elephants and camels, and a 
band plays in the gardens on Saturdays. Members of the 
society have access to a library, picture gallery, and enjoy 
various other advantages in assistance of the study and in-, 
vestigation of natui*al history. 

The Tower of London ! How the scenes of England's his- 
tory rise before the imagination, in which this old fortress, 
palace and prison by turns, has figured I It is a stnicture of 
which every part seems replete with story, and cveiy step the 
visitor makes brings him to some point that has an interest 
attached to it from its connection with the history of the past. 

The Tower has witnessed some of the proudest pageants of 
England's glory, and some of the blackest deeds of her tyran- 
ny and shame. The names of fair women, brave men, sol- 
diers, sages, monarchs, and nobles, — 

" Fair formsi and hoary seers of ages past," — 

are twined within its chronicles, and its hard, pitiless stones 
have frozen hope into despair in some of the noblest hearts 
that ever beat on English soil. 

Here Lady Jane Grey fell beneath the headsman's axe ; 
Clarence was drowned in the butt of Malmsey ; Anne Koleyn 
was imprisoned, and later her proud daughter. Princess, afler- 
wards Queen, Elizabeth, passed a prisoner through the water- 
gate ; Buckingham, Stafford, William Wallace, Essex, Eliza- 
beth's favorite, Lord Bacon, Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley 
heard its gates clang beliind them ; King Henry VI. and the 
princes were murdered here by Richard III.'s orders. But 
why continue the catalogue of names, of deeds, and of scenes 
that come thronging into one's mind as we approach this an- 
cient pile, that is invested with more historic interest than 
any other European palace or prison ? 

Its foundation dates back to the time of CaBsar, and one 
of the towera is called CoBsar's Tower to this day, though 
the buildings, as they now stand, were commenced in the 
time of William the Conqueror. 

Shakespeare has made this grim fortress so prominent a 


picture in hib plays, that, with the same fancy that one looks 
for Shylock to-day upon the crowded Rialto, does the vis- 
itor, on approaching the Tower, shudder as if he were to en- . 
counter the crooked form of Gloucester, or hear, in the dark 
passages, the mournful wail of the spirits of the two innocent 
princes, torn from their mother's arms, and dying by his cruel 

We sought the Tower on foot, but soon becoming entangled 
in a maze of crooked, naiTow, and dirty streets, which doubt- 
less might be very interesting to the antiquaiian, but rather 
disagreeable to the stranger, we were glad to hail a cab, and 
be driven down to it. Here we found that the Tower of 
London was a great fortress, with over thirteen acres enclosed 
within its outer wall and the principal citadel, or White Tower, 
as it is called, with its one round and three square steeples, the 
most prominent one in view on approaching, and in appear- 
ance that which many of us are familiar with from engravings. 

There are no less than thiiteen towera in the enclosure, viz. : 
the Bloody Tower, the Bell Tower, Beauchamp Tower, 
Devereux Tower, Flint Tower, Bowyer Tower, Brick Tower, 
vTewel Tower, Constable Tower, Salt Tower, Record Tower, 
and Broad Arrow Tower. We come to the entrance gate, 
where visitors ai'e received, and wait in a little office until 
twelve are assembled, or a warder will take charge of a party 
every half hour to go the rounds. The site of this building 
was where the lions were formerly kex^t. The warders, m 
iheir costume of yeomen of the giiaxd of Henry ^}}^'^ 
time, are among the curiosities of the place. Tlieir un o ^ 
consisting of a low-crowned velvet hi^tr,»\3^tT0UTidcd\>y ^^^^ ^^ 
garland, a broad raff about t^ ned*^, «^^ ^'t"^S\ron V^o 
tunic, with the crown, rose, shjinJl^^'^'^ . ftla atiaiWVts, 
breast, and other embroidery ^iv. tt*** ^""^^^ We^ toaette, 
with trunks gathered at the I- ° - r 1^ * ^^T ftfflw eaoxvg^* 
tight silk stockings and rosett''?'' ^^^^^ "^^ • J'liisf^^^'^^ * 
and as if some company of ^ nlO^Z.X^^'^? IJk^^i^^^' 
grand theatrical spectacle v. ^'^PerJ^ ^^^ *^Vo xecfivN^ ^® 

These warde,. are princip^^^'^ Coir>^ :r^tW<^- 
position as a reirani for b^ ^ KtU 0^ -a^-mX^^ 

204 tuaitob's gate and abmobt. 

The Tower is open to visitors from ten to four; the fee of 
admission sixpence, and sixpence more is charged for admis- 
sion to the depository of the crown jewels; conspicuous 
placards inform the visitor that the warders have no right to 
demand or receive any further fee from visitors ; but who has 
ever travelled in England, and gone sight-seeing there, but 
knows this to be, if he is posted, an invitation to try the 
power of an extra shilling when occasion occura, and which 
he generally finds purchases a desirable addition to his com- 
fort and enjoyment? 

However, on wc go, having purchased tickets and guide- 
books, following the warder, who repeats the set description, 
that he has recited so often, in a tedious, monotonous tone, 
from which he is only diiven by the curious questions of 
eager Yankees, often far out of his depth in the way of 
knowledge of what certain rooms, towera, gates, and pas- 
sages are noted for. We hurried on over the moat bridge, 
and halted to look at Traitor's Gate ; and I even descended to 
stand upon the landing-steps where so many illustrious pris- 
oners had stej)ped from the barge on their way to the prisons. 
Sidney, Russell, Cranmer, and More had landed here, and 
Anne Boleyn's dainty feet, and Elizabeth's high-heeled slip- 
pers pressed its damp stones. On we pass by the different 
towers, the warder desirous of our seeing what appears to 
him (an old soldier) the lion of the place — the annory of 
modem weapons, which we are straightway shown. Thou- 
sands and thousands of weapons — pistols, swords, cutlasses, 
and bayonets — are kept here, the small anns being an*anged 
most ingeniously into a number of astonishing figures. Here 
were the Piince of Wales's triple feather in glittering bayonets, 
a great sunburst made wholly of ramrods, a huge crown of 
swords, and stars, and Maltese crosses of pistols and bayonets ; 
the serried rows of muskets, rifles, and small aims in the 
great hall would ha^ e equipped an army of a Imndred 

But we at last got into the Beauchamp, or "Beechum" 
Tower, as our guide called it; and here we began to visit the 


prisons of the unhappy captives that have fretted their proud 
spirits in this gloomy fortress. Upon the walls of the guarded 
rooms they occupied they have left inscriptions and sculpture 
wrought with rude instruments and infinite toil, during the 
tedious hours of their imprisonment. Here is an elaborate 
carving, by Dudley, Earl of Warwick, brother to the Lord 
Dudley who married Lady Jane Grey. It is a shield, bearing 
the Lion, Bear, and Ragged Stafl^ and surrounded by a wreath 
of oak leaves, roses, and acorns, all cut in the stone, and under- 
neath an inscription, in Old English letters, stating that his four 
brothers were imprisoned here. In another room is the word 
Jane cut, which is said to refer to Lady Jane Grey, and to have 
been cut by her husband. Marmaduke Neville has cut his name 
in the pitiless stone, and a cross, bleeding heart, skeleton, and 
the word Peverel, wrought under it, tell us that one of the 
Peverels of Devonshire has been confined here : over the fire- 
place the guide points us to the autogi-aph of Philip How- 
ard, Earl of Arundel, who was beheaded in 1572 for aspiring 
to the hand of Maiy, Queen of Scots. Arthur Poole, who con- 
spired to place Mary on the English throne, left an inscription 
" I. II. S. A passage perillus makethe a port pleasant." 1568. 
A. Poole. Numerous other similar mementos are shown, 
cut in the walls of the apartments of this tower, the work of 
the prisonera who formerly occupied them, and the names 
thus left ai-e often those who figure in English history. 

In the White Tower wo were shown a room, ten by eight, 
receiving light only from the entrance, which, it is stated, was 
one of the rooms occupied by Sir Walter Raleigh, and that in 
it ho wrote his History of the World. Right in front of this, 
in the centre of the room, stands the beheading-block that 
has been used on Tower Hill, and the executioner's axe be- 
side it, which, in Elizabeth's reign, severed Essex's head from 
his body. The block bears the marks of service in the shape 
of more than one dint from tlie weapon of death. Some idea 
of the strength of this tower, and its security as a prison, may 
be had from the walls, which arc from twelve to fourteen feet 
in thickness. In this White Tower is the great Council Cham- 

7< ^^ e« 7 « S^^VEB KET. 

i^e-tiJt*^'y English fci^ 

i^ W^"^ ••oof, ^^ ^^' *°<^ hero, beneath .1. 

^ ^ry V ^^'^ «Pent tJ,« ^**^ friend of rT ^'^'' ^^s 
• ^^ ^^ ,V *^'*' *iat Tra« *** ^e fb„nZl ""^^"^ ^'^^ and many 

,^^ ott that - ^«t v^e ZnZr'''^ '"'«' «"<* "any 

^"^^^oeToSi'^^i-^^^^ ^^^- *^<' «^^ our ^-d, ^ 
ci ^«^o^^ pocket r ®^i<J r . 

^f'^^ parity- ^^«> as T fe rr f "'f' ""^ ''""^''g 

^I*®*^ /b^^ li»s palm *,"^» but / 

^- ^^J'o^^il ''^B^^nT'if ^-« ctf •^''^f ^« « shilling 

® ^ooi- ^^*3»sion to fQji ^ ^®° ''ley go oat, Til 

4e^""^°^ "''-«' b^ ?^-e lait "t"!-^-^' ''"^ "^^ 

^^^nt's instrnmen/ .'^ioh .-/ • ^^^t square — 
^-, is hired ru^Z*' ^<^ofced IV' ''''^' ^^eU, the 
fi complete. ^^?» to fo^' ^^^^the murder had 
l^r,, command.-.^"* ''Oo*^ «ure that his maste,^- 

l^T J:^ complete. J^?' to b^'^ '^^^ "^"^^e'' had 
f ^'-CS, commandiii'« i-oo^ ^'^^ *^at his mastei^s 
o«tIc^ ^a gardens J.*^? ^ie^^' «"»«« as it was. had a 

'"^^ "^f the Tower to .^i^^ex- 1 "^ ^ *^^"«^ <5ar- 

_* ^nr from *i- . t^e _ ' ^^^ Stairs 1«„ j= 

{». :*^^ -^£iriou8 

:f the Towe7t:%i^ive';"«^^ *o ^e called Q^- 

* far from thei^ J« &a;ewavV*'''" '^^^i^^g 
.fortunate pri„^;/^t, ^h:^,^^^ «hown ^ 

I interred at Wes^?r« afteAtds'lS^^^''"^ ^ 
.^inous dxsmal VuS!^«*«r Abbey, ^^^^^ed. 

^ ^^^ cells ^i_- 


gtiide, desirous of showing his appreciation of our bounty, 
conducted us to beneath the towers, holding his candle to 
show the carving made by wretched prisoners by the dini 
light that stniggled in when they were confined there, he 
took us to one, his description of which rather shook our faith 
in his veracity. It was a small, arched cell, about ten feet 
high, and not more than four feet deep, without grating, 
window, or aperture, except a door. 

" This," said he, swinging open the huge ironnstrapped and 
bolted door, " this was Guy Fawkes's dungeon ; he was con- 
fined here three days, with no more light and h'air than he 
could get through the key-'ole." 

" But," said I, " no man could live in that cell half a day ; 
he would die for lack of air." 

"But," said our cicerone, depreciatingly, "your /ionor 
doesn't consider the size of the key-'ole." 

No, but we did the size of the story, and felt convinced 
that we were getting a full shilling's worth extra. 

But if there were any doubt about the Guy Fawkes cell, 
there was none about many other points of historical interest, 
which, after learning the names of a few of the principal ones, 
could be easily located by those familiar with the liistory of 
the Tower, and even by those of us who only carried some 
of the leading events of England's history in mind. One 
of these points was a little enclosed square, in front of St. 
Peter's Chapel, in the open space formed by that edifice on 
one side, Beauchamp Tower on the other, and the White 
Tower on the third, in the place known as Tower Green. 
This little square, of scarce a dozen feet, railed -wdth iron to 
guard the bright greensward from profane tread, is the spot 
on which stood the scaffold, where,, on the 19th of May, 1536, 
Anne Boleyn bent her fair head to the block; the fall of 
which beneath one blow of the executioner's sword, was an- 
nounced by the discharge of a gun from the Tower ramparts, 
so that her Imsband, that savage and brutal British king, 
who was hunting in Epping Forest, might be apprised that 
she had yielded up her life ; and history tells us that this royal 


brute of the sixteenth century returned that very evening 
gayly from the ch^se, and on the following morning married 
Jane Seymour. 

Here, also, upoil the earth enclosed in the little square 
round which we were standing, poured forth the precious 
blood of Bloody Mary's victim, Lady Jane Grey; here is 
where, after saying to the executioner, " I*pray you despatch 
me quickly," she knelt down, groped for the fatal block, bent 
her innocent neck, and passed, with holy words upon her 
lips, into that land where opposing creeds shall not harass, 
nor royal ambition persecute. 

Here also was that murder (it could not be called execu- 
tion) done by order of Henry VIH. on the Countess of 
Salisbury, a woman, seventy years of age, condemned to 
death without any form of trial whatever ; who, conscious of 
her innocence, refused to place her head upon the block. 
" So traitors used to do, and I am no traitor," said the bravo 
old countess, as she struggled fiercely with her murderers, 
till, weak and bleeding from the . sbldiers' pikes, she was 
dragged to the block by her gray hair, held down till the ex- 
ecutioner perfoimed his office, and the head of the last of the 
Plantagenets, the daughter of the murdered Clarence, fell; 
and another was added to the list of enormities committed 
by the bloated and sensual despot who wielded the sceptre 
of England. 

The soil within this little enclosure is rich with the blood 
of the innocent victims of royal tyranny; and it was not 
astonishing that wc lingered here beyond the patience of 
our guide. 

The collection of ancient armor and arms at the Tower is 
one of great interest, especially that known as the Horse 
Annoiy, which contains, besides a large and curious collection 
of poi'tions of armor and weapons, a great number of equestri- 
an figures, fully armed and equipped in suits of armor of 
various periods between Edward L, 1272, and the death ot 
James I., 1625. Tliis building is over one hundred and fifty 
feet long, by about thiity-five wide, and is occupied by a 


double row of these figures, whose martial and life-like ap- 
pearance almost startles the visitor as he steps in amid this 
warlike array of mailed knights, all in the different attitudes 
of the tilting-ground or battle-field, silent and immovable as 
if they had suddenly been checked in mid career by a touch 
firom the wand of some powerftd enchanter. 

Here, in flexible chain-mail hood, shirt, and spurs, stands 
the effigy of Edward I. (1272), the king in the act of draw- 
ing his sword ; and clad in this armor were the knights who 
were borne to the- earth on the fields of Dunbar and Ban- 
nockbum. Next rides at full tilt, with lance in rest, and 
horse's head defended by spiked chanfron, and saddle decorat- 
ed with the king's badges, Edward IV., 1483 ; then we have 
the armor worn in the Wars of the Roses, and at Bosworth 
Field; here a suit woni by a swordsman in Henry VII.'s 
time, about 1487; next, a powerful charger, upon the ftQl 
leap, bears the burly figure of Henry VIH., in a splendid 
suit of tilting armor, inlaid with gold: this suit is one 
which is known to have belonged to the tyrant ; a sword is 
at the side of the figure, and the right hand grasps an iron 
mace. A splendid suit of armor is that of a knight of Ed- 
ward VI.'s time (1552), covered all over with beautiful 
arabesque work, inlaid with gold, and a specimen of work- 
manship which, it seemed to me, any of our most skilful 
jewellers of the present day might be proud ot 

Then we have the very suit of armor tbat was worn by 
Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, wliicii is profusely dec- 
orated with that oft-mentioned badge of tlae Dudleys, the 
Bear and Ragged Stafl? that they apP^«^^^^ ^ ^"^ ^"""^ W^ 
cutting, carving, stamping, and enGCr^-viixg xx^oii evev^ ^^ 

of theirs, movable and immovable ^"^ '"'^'^'"^^ fl^^^ of 
also engraved on the knee-guai^^ OTl^® ^^"^ A<.t.Ai^ s^>^^ 
Robert Deve..x Earl of f i^^^' Jg,, - ^«^tt^.^..> 
of gilt amor; effigy of Hen!?' ^^ 5 1^*"' "^ • .4 ?e«t ^^^"* 
rapier in hand, in the armor J??^» P^^ l»^"'' ti«A»»^«^ 

-a splendid suit, engraved ai5*^« ^^^-^ ^"^Ste^^^^"^ 
of battle scenes; the annoi-tj^ a^orrJ^r^T^^^ 

'' ^^^^ tot 


a youth ; James 11., 1685, in his own armor. Besides these 
were numerous other figures, clad in suits of various periods. 
One veiy curious was a suit wrought in Henry VIII.'s time, 
which was composed entirely of movable splints, and almost 
as flexible as an overcoat ; a figure clad in splendid plated 
armor, time of Henry VH., with ancient sword in hand, 
battle-axe at the saddle-bow, and the horse protected by 
armor in front — the whole figure a perfect realization of the 
poet's and artist's idea of a brave knight sheathed in gleam- 
ing steel. 

The curious old implements of war, fi'om age to age, iUue- 
ti*ate the progress that was made in means for destroying human 
life; and the period of the invention of gunpowder is marked 
by the change which takes place in the character of the 
weapons. Here we were shown the English "bill," which 
the sturdy soldiers used with such effect when they got 
within striking distance of the enemy ; a ball armed with 
protruding iron spikes, and hitched by a chain to a long pole, 
and used flail-like, denominated the "morning star," we 
should think would have created as much damage among 
friends as foes on the battle-field ; then there was a curious 
contrivance, called the catch-pole — a sort of iron fork, with 
springs, for pulling a man off his horse by the head ; battle- 
axes, halberds, English pikes, partisans, cross-bows, with their 
iron bolts, long bows, a series of helmets fix)m 1320 down to 
1685 — a very curious collection. Then we have the collec- 
tion of early fire-arms, petronel, match-lock, wheel-lock, and, 
among others, a veritable revolver pistol of Henry VIIL's 
time — an ancient, rude-looking affair, and fi'om which, we 
were told bj the guide, " Colonel Colt, of the American army," 
borrowed his idea. 

" So you see, sir, the -Samerican revolver is nothink new — 
Aonly a hold -Senglish ^idea, Aarfl^er ^aU." 

This prodigious broadside, of h's was unanswerable. So 
we said nothing, and shall look for the English model fi'om 
which the American sewing-machine was invented. 

Of course, there is no one who will think of vujiting the 


Towei without seeing the regalia of England, which an 
kept here in their own especial stronghold, entitled the Jewe 
Tower. - It is astonishing to see the awe and wonder witl 
which some of the common people look upon these glittering 
emblems of royalty, which they seem to regard with a ven 
eration little short of the sovereign. 

The royal crown is a cap of rich purple velvet, enclosed ir 
hoops of silver, and surmounted by a ball and cross of splcn 
did diamonds. The Prince of Wales's crown is a simph 
pure gold crown, without jewels. The queen's diadem, as il 
is called, is an elegant affair, rich in huge iliamonds and 
pearls. This crown was made for the consort of James II 
St. Edward's crown, shaped like the regular English crown 
— with which we are all familiar, from seeing it represented 
in the arms of England, and upon British coin, — is of gold, 
and magnificent with diamonds, rubies, pearls, emeralds, and 
other precious stones. Here we also have sight of the othei 
paraphernalia of royalty, which, to American visitors, looks 
somewhat theatrical and absurd, and continually suggest the 
thought of what empty pageants are the parade and mum- 
meries of kings and princes. Here is the royal sceptre, a 
rod formed of gold, and richly adorned with jewels, sur- 
mounted by a cross, which is placed in tlje right hand of the 
sovereign at coronations; and the rod of equity, another 
scepti-e, ornamented with diamonds, and Bunnounted with a 
dove with outstretched wings, which is placed in the left 
hand ; a queen's sceptre, richly ornamexiteA mth jewels ; the 
ivory sceptre of James II.'s queen ; atii the elegantly-^J^^S'^^ 
golden one made for Mary, queen of W^^^«^^^^'*' ?^. \e^ 
Justice and Mercy, coronation bracelets, s?ut^^ ''''r'^SeTOua 
sels, baptismal font, spoons, saltKielUr0, ^^^""^^ "^ a\L oue, as 
other-coronation tools, I musTruTi^^^'^'^^le o« o^^ 
they lay there spread oat to ^.""^^^ ^'^ J^^^t \^otv;^^^^^^^ 

of those displays of bridal pros^f ^ "^ V^"^ ^"^^"^v^^^^^^ 

where the guest wonders at th ^^ ^^ \i>^^ '\\.^^^^'^'^''^' 

in producing so many article^ ^. ^^gel^^^^t:^^ ^ \v\(^ 

and is told what tbe/ar^ de^^ ^<>^ V0^ ^ 

a use could be founcL ^^^^ ^ ^ 

212 ST. Paul's. 

From the blaze of diamonds and precious stones, and the 
yellow glitter of beaten gold, we turned away to once more 
walk through the historic old fortress, and examine the rec- 
ord that is left behind of the part it has played of palace, 
fortress, and prison. 

The tourist gets but a confused idea of the Tower in one 
visit, harried along as he is by the warder, who repeats his 
monotonous, set descriptions, with additions and emendations 
of his own, and if he be not " i' the vein," omitting, I fancy, 
some portion of the regular romii, to save himself trouble, 
especially if an extra douceur has not been dropped into his 
itching palm. Then there are walks, passages, windows, and 
apartments, all celebrated in one way or another, which are 
passed by without notice, from the fact that a full description 
would occupy far too much time, but which, if you should 
happen to have an old Londoner, with a liking for antiquity, 
with you, to point them out, and have read up pretty well 
the history of the Tower, you find are material enhancing the 
pleasure of the visit. 

I suppose St. Paul's Church, in London, may be called the 
twin sight to the Tower;. and so we will visit that noted old 
monument of Sir Christopher Wren's architectural skill next. 
In looking at London en masse^ from any point, — that is, as 
much of it as one can see at once, — the great dome of St. 
Paul's stands out a most prominent landmark, its huge globe 
rising to the height of three hundred and sixty feet. 

We used to read an imprint, in our young days, stamped 
upon a toy-book, containing wonderful colored pictures, 
which communicated the fact that it was sold by Blank & 
Blank, Stationers, St. Paul's Churchyard, London, and won- 
dered why bookstores were kept in burial-grounds in Lon- 
don. We found, on coming to London, that St. Paul's stood 
in the midst of a cemetery, and that the street or square 
around and facing it — probably once a part of the old cem- 
etery — is called St. Paul's Churchyard; a locality, we take 
occasion to mention, that is noted for its excellent shops for 
cheap dry goods and haberdashery, or such goods as ladies 

OLD ST. paitl's. 213 

in America buy at thread stores, and which can generally be 
bought here a trifle cheaper than at other localities in Lon- 
don. St. Paul's Churchyard is also noted for several excel- 
lent lunch or refreshment rooms for ladies and gentlemen, 
similar, in some respects, to American confectionery shops, 
except that at these, which are designated "pastry-cooks," 
cakes, cold meats, tarts, sherry wine, and ale may be had ; 
' and I can bear witness, from personal experience, that the 
quality of the refreshment, and the prices charged at the 
well-kept pastry-cooks' shops of St. Paul's Churchyard, are 
such as will satisfy the most exacting taste. 

The present St. Paul's, which was completed in 1710, can 
hardly be called Old St. Paul's. The first one built on this 
site was that in 610, by Ethelbert, King of Kent, which was 
burned, as was also its successor, which received large estates 
from the Conqueror. But the Old St. Paul's we read so 
much about in novel and story, was the great cathedral im- 
mediately preceding this one, which was six hundred and 
ninety feet long, one hundred and thirty broad, was built in 
the form of a cross, and sent a spire up five hundred and 
twenty feet into the air, and a tower two hundred and sixty 
feet; which contained seventy-six chapels, and maint^ned 
two hundred priests ; from which the pomp and ceremony of 
the Romish church vanished before the advance of the Ref- 
ormation ; which was desecrated by the soldiery in civil war, 
and finally went down into a heap of smouldeTmg mins in 
1666, after an existence of two -hundred and twenty y^^^- 
That was the Old St. Paul's of ancient Etyoxy, and ^^."^'^^^^ 
rison Ainsworth's interesting historic^^ ^^"^^^"^ "^^ ^v tlxe 
vnth an imaginative description of its ^^^ de^XtwcUon y 
great fire of London. ^ ^ Ytee 

Sir Christopher Wren, the s.^ , . r-t>^ ^^ ^T W\^9^ ^^^ 
and Accepted Mason, built t^^I"^^*^^^^ ^^'^"t:SS^n^^ 
comer-stone in 1675, and the o. ^^^^^^ i^ ^"^'^ tk^eet, atvd 
-a thirty-five yea«' piece o^^^ton^^^^T f' ^^n^^e^^^^^^ 
most ably and faithfuHjr was • ^Ork ^^ >^^ ^L^X^axv^^oad 
therefor^ is the epitapi that -"^ ^on^' ^ ^"^ 


slab that marks his last resting-place in the crypt on the spot 
where the high altar of the old cathedral once stood. Be- 
neath this slab, we are told, rests the builder ; but " if ye seek 
Ills monument, look around you." The comer-stone of St. 
Paul's was laid with masonic ceremonies, and the trowel and 
mallet used on the occasion are still preserved by the lodge 
whose members at that time officiated. 

It is impossible to get a complete general view of the whole 
of St. Paul's at once, it is so hemmed in here in the oldest 
and most crowded part of London. Here, all around us were 
streets whose very names had the ring of old English history. 
Watling Street, a harrow lane, but old as Anglo-Saxon times ; 
Newgate, where the old walls of London stood, is near at 
hand, and Cannon Street, which runs into St. Paul's church- 
yard, contains the old London Stone, once called the central 
point of the city, from which distances were measured ; Lud- 
gate Hill, little narrow Paternoster Row, Cheapside, and 
Old Bailey are close by, and a few steps will take you into 
Fleet Street, St. Martins le Grand, or Bow Lane. You feel 
that here, in whatever direction you turn, you are in old Lon- 
don indeed, near one of the solid, old, historical, and cuiious 
parts . of it, that figure in the novels and histories, and with 
which you mentally shake hands as with an old acquaintance 
whom you have long kn^wn by correspondence, but now meet 
face to face for the first time. 

St. Paul's is built of what is called Portland stone ; original- 
ly, I should suppose, rather light colored, but now grimed 
with the universal blacking of London smoke. The best 
view of the exterior is from Ludgate Hill, a street approach- 
ing its western front, from which a view of the steps leading 
to the grand entrance and the statues in front of it is ob- 

One. does not realize the huge proportions of this great, 
church till he walks about it. Its entire length, from east to 
west, is five hundred feet ; the breadth at the great western 
entrance, above referred to, is one hundred and eighty feet^ 
and at the tnmsept two hun'dred and fifty feeU The entire 


circumfeience of the church, as I was told by the loqivKjious 
guide who accompanied me, was two thousand two hundred 
and ninety-five feet, and it covers two acres of ground. These 
figures will afford the reader opportunity for comparison, and 
give some idea of its immensity. The height of the cross on 
the dome is three hundred and sixty feet fi*om the street, and 
thB diameter of the great dome itself is one hundred and 
eighty feet. 

There is ever so much that is curious and interesting to 
see in St. Paul's, and, like many other celebrated places, the 
visitor ascertains that it cannot be seen in the one, hurried, 
tourist visit that is generally given to them, especially if one 
wishes to give an intelligible description to fiiends, or convey 
his idea to those who have not had the opportunity of visit- 
ing it. For my own part, it was a second visit to these old 
churches I used most to enjoy, when, with local guide-book 
and pencil in hand, afler perhaps refi'eshing memoiy by a 
peep the night before into English history, I took a two or 
three hours' quiet saunter among the aisles, the old crypts, or 
beneath the lofty, quiet old arches, or among the monuments, 
when I could have time to read the whole inscription, and 
pause, and think, and dream over the lives and career of 
those who slept beneath 

** The storied urn and animated bust.*' 

There are over fifty splendid monuments, chiefly to English 
naval afad military heroes, in St. Paul's, many of them most 
elaborate, elegant, and costly groups of marble statuary ; but 
I left those for the last, and set about seeing other sights 
within the old pile, and so first started for the Whispering 
Gallery. This is reached by a flight of two hundred and 
sixty steps fi-om the transept, and about half way up to it we 
Wire shown the library belonging to the church, containing 
many rare and curious works, among them the first book of 
Common Prayer ever printed, and a set of old monastic manu- 
scripts, said to have been preserved from the archives of the 
old St. Paul's, when it was a Roman cathedral. The floor 




of this library is pointed out as a curiosity, b«ing composed of 
a mosaic of small j)ieces of oak wood. Next the visitor is 
shown the Geometrical Staii*s, a flight of ninety steps, so in- 
geniously constnicted that they all hang together without 
any visible means of support except the bottom step. • 

Up we go, upward and onward, stopping to see the big bellf 
— eleven thousand four hundi-ed and seventy-four pounds,' — 
which is never tolled except for a death in the royal family. 
The hour indicated by the big clock is struck on it by a ham- 
mer moved by clock-work; but the big clapper used in tolling 
weighs one hundred and eighty pounds. The clock of St. 
Paul's seems a gigantic timepiece indeed, -when you get up 
to it ; its faces are fifty-seven feet in circumference, and the 
minute-hand a huge bar of steel, weighing seventy-five 
pounds, and nearly ten feet in length ; the hour or little hand 
is another bar of about six feet long, weighing forty-four 
pounds. The figm-es on the dial are two feet three inches 
long, and the big pendulum, that sets the machinery of this 
great time-keeper in motion, is sixteen feet long, with a weight 
of one hundred and eight pounds at the end of it. 

The Whispering Gallery is a gallery with, a light orna- 
mental iron railing, running entirely round the inside of the 
base of the cupola, a distance of one hundred and forty yards ; 
and whispered conversation can be carried on with persons 
seated at the extreme opposite side of the space ; the clap- 
ping of the hands gives out almost as sharp a report as the dis- 
charge of a lifle. This Whispering Gallery is a fine place to 
get a good view of the great paintings in the compartments 
of the dome, which represent leading events in tlie life of St. 
Paul. It was at the painting of these pictures that the oc- 
currence took place, so familiar as a story, where the artist, 
gradually retiring a few steps backward to mark the effect 
of his work, and having unconsciously reached the edge of 
the scaffolding, would, by another step, have been precipitated 
to the pavement, hundreds of feet below, when a fiiend, see- 
ing his peril, with great presence of mind, seized a brush and 
daubed some fresh paint upon the picture ; the artist rushed 

forward to prevent the a.<5*» «-i^ 
gallery we looked far clo-%vo ** j^,^„e. 

of black and white, the cei**'"*' -nrlmr 
complete mariner's compus^y ^ » '«« a 
Above thia are two more g-£"Y^^^ ^ 
Stone Gallery and Golden *^^^,zfj^^' ~^ 
of London, its bridges and tl»^ -^ ' * 

be clear. Above we come t«:> *''*% 'PT ^'^ 
called, which crowns the ca-*^^ *.^"' 

ball and cross. Through tlx^ Goor, m 

teiTi, a hole about the size of ^*' 

Jars*' «3 

as I Stood there and looked et,ir£»-^S 
three hundred feet below, I -*vill *''^'^^^ 
contraction in the soles of tho -^^^^ ^-5.3, 
at the people below, dwarfc<3 *^y \sra\ 
with the suBpicion o^ what ii' t/tt.<^ 1 
aperture shonld be weak! ,^ 

Next comes an ascent into ■tl*^ ^^ 

bars uphold the ball and cross 5 *'*^ . 

open to the wealjier, but so m^*- . -.^^t 
makes his way by aid of steps i* ---tb 

as he braces his body against ^^^ o^s 

get more than an arm out ; s<=> "fc"-*' ^^, 
unattended with danger, an.<3 ."*^^ -tl" 

within this great globe, wbicl"*- »-» "b' 

about the size of a large fo«>0-^^ W a' 
cnpacity to contain ton meri- t-«; 

ptand in that huge metallic sI>V»<^^ ^ 
by great straps of ii-on almo^*" - ^^ fi 
hear the wind, which was ^^*^'^'^*^^o-' 
like a steamship's pad(lle-wl»^*^ -cv-ti^i*^' 
above the glolf rises the cr-osSa I'l-v' '^' 
which the guide affirmed 1**^ '*^^*^ if ^■^ 
would clhnb and sit astri*!*^ <=*^^ 
ting dt it. ^ -tlio 

Having taken the ^e**^*^^--^^ l,o-vv< 
we will now descend to '*' 


which rwt the last mortal remams of England's greatest 
naval and greatest military heroes, — Nelson and Wellington, 
— neroes whose pictures you see from one^nd of the island 
to 'he other, in every conceivable style — their portraits, naval 
r»nd battle scenes in which they figui-ed, busts, monuments, 
itatues, engravings, and bronzes. No picture gallery seems 
complete without the death scene of Nelson upon his ship in 
the hour of victory ; and one sees it so frequently, that he al- 
most pelds to the belief that the subject is as favorite a one 
with British artists, as certain scriptural ones used to be with 
the old Italian painters. 

The crypt contains the immense pillara, forty feet squai'c, 
which support the floor above, and in that part of it directly 
beneath the dome is the splendid black marble sarcophagus 
of Lord Nelson, suimounted by the cusliion and coronet. 
This sarcophagus was originally prepared by Cardinal Wolsey 
for his own interment at Windsor, but now covers the remains 
of the naval hero, and bears upon its side the simple inscrip- 
tion " Horatio, Viscount Nelson." In another portion of 
the cr}T)t is the large porphyry sarcophagus of the Duke of 
Wellington, the enclosure about it lighted with gas from 
granite candelabra, wliile all about in other parts of the crypt, 
beneath the feet of the visitor, are memorial slabs, that tell 
him that the ashes of some of England's most noted painters 
and architects rest below. Here lies Sir Christopher Wren, 
^who built §t. Paul's, and who lived to the good old age of 
ninety-one. Hero sleeps Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir Thomas 
Lawrence, and Benjamin West, painters ; here Robert Mylne, 
who built Blackfriars' Bridge, and John Rcnnie, who built 
Southwark and Waterloo Bridges, besides many others of 
more or less note. In another part of the crypt is preserved 
the great funeral car, with all its trappings and decorations, , 
which was used upon the occasion of the ftmeral ceremonies 
of the Duke of Wellington, and which the guide shows with 
great empressement^ expecting an extra sixpence in addition 
to the three shillings and two pence you have already ex- 
pended for tickets to different parts of the building. 

220 England's wabsiobs. 

conntry and maiikind, and that his modesty alone defeated 
varioas efforts which were made during his life to erect this 

There is a fine statue of Bishop Heber, who, half a century 
ago (May 15, 1819), wrote the beautiful missionary hymn, 
"From Greenland's icy mountains," which has since then 
been translated into foreign tongues at every missionary sta- 
tion, and sung all over the world. The statue, executed by 
Chantrey, represents the bishop kneeling, with his hand rest- 
ing upon the Holy Bible. 

There are two monuments that will attract the attention 
of Americans, from the fact of their being in memory of gen- 
erals who gained their laurels in military operations in this 
country. The first is that of General Robert Ross, who, in 
1814, "executed an enterprise against Washington, the cap- 
ital of the United States of America, mth complete success." 
Valor is represented as placing an American flag upon the 
general's tomb, over which Britannia is weeping, — maybe at 
the vandalism of the "enterprise." The other monument 
represents Generals Pakenham and Gibbs, in full uniform, 
who, as the inscription informs us, " fell gloriously, on the 8th 
of January, 1815, while leading the troops to an attack of 
the enemy's works in front of New Orleans." 

Lord CoUingwood, who was vice-admiral, and commanded 
the larboard division at the battle of Trafalgar, has a splen- 
did monument, upon which d man-of-war is represented 
bringing home his remains, attended by Fame and other alle- 
gorical figures. That eminent surgeon, Sir Astley Cooper, 
who died in 1842, has a fijae monument, erected by his con- 
temporaries and pupils. 

A splendid marble group, representing a war-horse bound- 
ing over a fallen soldier, while his rider is falling from the 
saddle into the arms of a Highlander, is erected to the mem- 
ory of Sir Ralph Abercromby, who fell in Egypt in 1801. A. 
marble figure of a sphinx reposes each side of the monu- 
ment. The statue of Sir Joshua Reynolds is by Flaxman, 
and represents him clad in the robes of a dor^tor of law, with 

GOG Ain).HAGOG. 221 

a voltone in <)ue hand, and the other resting upon a medallion 
of Michael Angelo. The inscription, in Latin, describes him 
as " prince of the painters of his age." 

Numerous other groups of statuary from the monuments 
of naval and military heroes represent them surrounded by 
allegorical figures of History, Fame, Valor, &c^ and inscrip- 
tions set forth their deeds of bravery, and their services to 
the nation for whom they poured out their blood and yielded 
up their lives. 

Monuments to those whose names are well known in this 
country will also attract the attention of American visitors, 
such as that to Henry Hallam, the historian of the Middle 
Ages; Turner, the celebrated painter; Napier, the historian 
of the peninular war; Sir Henry Lawrence, who died defend- 
ing Lucknow, in 1857; and Sir John Moore, who fell at 
Corunna, and was buried at midnight on the ramparts, as 
described in the well-known ode commencing, — 

" Not a dram was heard, not a funeral note, 
As his corpse to the rampart we hurried." 

Thus it is in the sculptured marble you may in Westmm- 
ster Abbey, St. Paul's, and the old cathedrals of the country, 
read England's history again, and seem to approach nearer, 
and have a more realizing sense of her great men and their 
deeds, than from the pages of the printed volume. 

In the rush of sight-seeing we had nigh forgotten Guildhall, 
the homo of Gog and Magog, and the City Hall of London. 
And, in truth, it is really not much of a sight to see, in com- 
parison with the many others that claim the visitor's atten- 
tion; but wc drifted down to the end of King Street one day, 
which carried us straight into the entrance of Guildhall, at 
the end of the street. Tl.e great entrance hall is quite im- 
posing, being about one hundred and fifty feet long, fifty 
wide, and fifty high, lighted with wmdowa of painted glass, 
while at one end, in a sort of raised gallery, stand the big 
wooden figures of the city giants, Gog (Xt^^ ilagog. Around 
this great hall are several mouuraonts ^^^ poupa > among 


them, thoso to the Earl of Chatham, Wellington, and Nel- 
son, and statues of Edward VI^ Queen Elizabeth, and 
Charles I. The hall is used for elections, city meetings, and 
banquets — those noted feasts at which turtle soup is sup- 
posed to be so prominent a feature in the bill of fare. 

There are in London quite a number of the buildings or 
halls of the guilds or trade associations of old times — nearly 
fifty, I believe. Many of the trades have ceased to exist — 
their very names almost obsolete. For instance, the associa- 
tion of lorinera, united girdlers, and the bowyers. The mem- 
bers of some of these old corporations or guilds are by no 
means all artisans, and about all they have to do is to man- 
age the charities and trust funds that have descended to 
them. They meet but once or twice a year, and then in the 
old hall, furbished up for the occasion. The very best of 
good eating and drinking is provided, and perhaps, on cer- 
tain annivei*saries, the curious records and annals of the old 
society are produced, and, perchance, some old anniversary 
ceremony gone through with. 

Some of the societies have rare and curious relics, which 
are brought out on these occasions. For instance, the fish- 
mongers have the dagger with which Wat Tyler was stabbed 
by one of its members ; the armorers ar^d braziers some fine 
old silver work ; and the barber surgeons a fine, large picture, 
by Holbein, representing Henry VHI. presenting the charter 
to their company. In Goldsmiths' Hall we saw a splendid 
specimen of the goldsmiths' work, in the shape of a gold 
chandelier, weighing over one thousand ounces. This hall 
was rebuilt in 1834, although the goldsmiths owned the site 
ui 1323. By an act of Parliament, all articles of gold or sil- 
ver must be assayed or stamped by this company before 
being sold. 

In Threadneedle Street, appropriately placed, we saw 
Merchant Tailors' Hall, built about 1667; and in the old 
hall of this company James I., and his son Prince Henry, 
once dined with the company, when verses composed espe- 
cially for the occasion by Ben Jonson were recited. Here, 


in Threadnecdle Street, is the Bank of England, somctunoa 
called the " Old Lady of Threedneedle Street," which is also 
one of the sights of the metropolis, and covera a quadrangular 
space of nearly four acres. Armed with a letter of introduc- 
tion from one of the directors, or, more fortunate, in company 
with one of them, if you chance to enjoy the acquaintance of 
any of those worthies, you can make the tour of tlus wonder- 
ful establishment, finishing with the treasure vault, whcro 
you have tlie tantalizing privilege of holding a million cr two 
dollars' worth of English bank notes in your hand, and " heft- 
ing " ingots of gold and bricks of silver. 

Then there are twenty-four directors to this bank, and about 
a thousand pei-sons employed in it : clerks commence at the 
age of seventeen, receiving* fifty pounds per annum for their 
service, and the salary of a chief of department is twelve 
hundred pounds. Some old, gray-headed men that we saw, 
who had grown round-shouldered over their ledgers, we were 
informed had been in the employ of the bank for over forty 
years. The operation of collecting the specie for a bank note, 
which I tested, is one requiring considerable red tape and 
circumlocution. You go from clerk to clerk, registering your 
address and date of presentation of notes and their number, 
till finally you reach the individual who is weighing and 
shovelling out sovereigns, who passes out the specie for the 
paper. These notes, after being once presented, are never re- 
issued, but kept on hand, first having the signatures torn 0% 
for seven years, and then burned. We visited the storehouse 
of these "relics of departed worth," in the bank, where 
millions of tatterdemalions were heaped up, awaiting their 
fiery doom. 

That royal gift of Cardinal Wolsey to Henry VllI — 
Hampton Court Palace — is not only noted for its associa- 
tions of bluff King Hal and the ambitious cardinal, but as 
being the residence of several of the most celebrated of the 
British sovereigns. The estate went into the clutches of 
Henry in 1526. It is about twelve miles from Hyde Park, in 
London, and the palace covers about e'ght acres of ground. 


It was here that Edward VI. was bom, and his mother, 
Jane Seymour, died a few days after ; and it was here that 
Catharine Howard first appeared as Henry Vlll.'s queen, 
in 1540 ; and in this palace the licentious brute married his 
sixth wife, Catherine PaiT ; here Edward VI. lived a portion 
of his short reign, Queen Mary spent her honeymoon, and 
Queen Elizabeth visited. Charles H. was here during the 
plague in London ; and Oliver Cromwell saw one daughter 
married and another die beneath its roof; Charles II. and 
James II., William HI. and Greorge 11., have all lived and 
held court in this famous old place, which figures so frequently 
in the pages of English history ; and so short a distance is it 
from London, and so cheap are the excursion trains, that, on 
a pleasant day a mechanic, his wife, and child may go out, 
visit the magnificent old palace, all its rooms, see all its 
paintings, its superb acres of lawn, forests,, fountains, 
court-yards, and walks for two shillings (the railroad fare to go 
and return for the three). All at Hampton Court is open free 
to the public ; they may even walk, run, and roll over on the 
grass, if they like, if not rude or misbehaved. Many spend a 
whole holiday in the palace and its delightfid grounds, and on 
the pleasant Sunday afternoon I visited them, there were, at 
least, ten thousand persons present ; yet, so vast is the estate, 
that, with the exception of the passage through the different 
rooms, which are noted as picture galleries, there was no feel- 
ing as of a crowd of visitors. 

The guides, who went through the different apartments, 
explaining their history, and pointing out the celebrated and 
beautiful paintings, asked for no fee or reward, although 
many a visitor drops a few pence into their not unwilling 

Entering the palace, we went by way of the King's Grand 
Staircase, as it is called, the walls and ceilings covered with 
elegant allegorical frescoes, and representations of heathen 
deities — Pan, Ceres, Jupiter, Juno ; Time surrounded by the 
signs of the zodiac, and Cupids with flowers ; Fame blowing 
her trumpet, and Peace bearing the palm branch; Bacchus 


with his grapes, and Diana seated upon the half moon; 
Hercules with his lion sldn and club, and Ganymede, on the 
eagle, presenting the cup to Jove. From this grand entrance, 
with necks aching from the upward gaze, we came to the 
Guard-room, a spacious hall, some sixty feet in length, with 
muskets, halberds, spears, and daggers disposed upon the 
walls, fonning various fantastic figures. 

Prom thence the visitor passes into the firat of the series 
of state apartments, which is entitled the King's Presence 
Chamber, and, after looking up at the old chandelier, made 
in the reign of Queen Anne, suspended from the ceiling, the 
guide begins to point out and mention a few of the leading 
pictures in each room. As there arc eighteen or twenty of 
these rooms, and over a thousand pictures suspended upon 
the walls, to say nothing of the florid and elaborate decora- 
tions of the ceilings by Verio, the number is far too great to 
be inspected satisfactorily at a single visit ; and upon many 
scarce more than a passing glance can be bestowed as you 
pass along with the group of sight-seers. I jotted in my note- 
book several of those before which I halted longest, such 
as Charles I. by Vandyke, Ignatius Loyola by Titian, and 
the portraits of beauties of Charles II.'s gay court, which 
are one of the great attractions of the collection. These 
portraits were painted by Sir Peter Lely, and some of them 
very beautifully executed : here are the Princess Mary, as Di- 
ana ; Anne Hyde, Duchess of York ; the Duchess of Rich- 
mond, whom Charles wanted to marry, and, if she looked 
like her portrait, we applaud his taste in female beauty ; the 
sprightly, laughing face of Nell Gwynne ; Lady Middleton, 
another beauty, but a frail one ; and the Countess of Ossory, 
a virtuous one amid the vice and licentiousness of the " merry 
monarch's " reign. 

Li the Queen's Gallery, which is about one hundred and 
fecvcnty-five feet in length, there is a very interesting collec- 
tion; and here the guide had some indulgence, and allowed us 
to tarry a little. Great tapestry hangings, with scenes from 
the life of Alexander the Great, beautifully executed, were 



suspended on the walls ; here hung Raphael's portrait, painted 
by himself; here Henry VII.'s Children, by Mabeuse; and 
here old Holbein (to whose brush we owe all the pictorial 
representations we have of Henry VTII.) especially flourishes; 
for his portraits of Henry when young, of Erasmus, Will 
Somers, the king's jester, Francis I. of France, and others 
that I do not remember, hang here ; there is a beautiful St. 
Catheiine, by Correggio; a Jewish Rabbi, by Rembrandt; 
Boar's Head, by Snyders ; Fruit, by Cuyp ; a Boy and Fruit, 
bj JIurillo ; besides scores of others by great artists. What 
a collection to be allowed thirty-five minutes to look at ! It 
was little less than an aggi-avation. 

Next came the Queen's Drawing-room, which contains 
many pictures from the pencil of Benjamin West; among 
them, that with which every one of us, who has studied an 
American geography or child's book of history, is so famil- 
iar — the death of General Wolfe at the storming of Quebec. 
From out the windows of this room is another of those 
superb English landscape \'iews of which I have so often 
spoken, that we get from the castles and palaces of the coun- 
try. A magnificent avenue of lime trees, nearly a mile in 
length, stretches out to view, and an artificial river, or canal, 
of the same length, shines between the greensward of the 
park, while an old English church tower, at the extreme back- 
ground, fills out the charming picture of nature. 

In the Queen's Audience Chamber we have old Holbein's 
works again. The curious old pictures from his brush here 
are, Henry VHI. embarking at Dover ; the Battle of Spurs ; 
Meeting of Henry VIII. and the Emperor Maximilian, and 
Meeting of Henry VHI. and Francis I. on the Field of the 
Cloth of Gold. This last picture has a story, which is to the 
effect that in Cromwell's time the Parliament proposed to 
sell it to the King of France. The Earl of Pembroke, how- 
ever, determined that such a treasure of art and historical 
memento should not leave England, and thereupon carefully 
and secretly cut off the head of Henry the Eighth from the 
canvas, so that the French king's agent, discovering tlie muti- 


as J- 

and th^ 

lation, refused to take tlie 
came to the throne, after 
the head, which had been 
skilfully replaced; so ski 
view by a side light that 

In the Private Dinins-^ 

three of the great couches ^^ 
liam III. and his Queen Max-y^. 

few pictures of note; so v*^o „- 
" MTiting closets," « audience cltam hev. 
fine, lofty gallery, built hy Sir Olirist 
have more portraits by Holbein, one t» 
Queen Elizabeth, in her vast and eii.c»^» 
gandy costume. Landscape l>y>en8, J 
vermans, Inside a Farm Honse* l?y Ten » 
three hundred others. 

After this pictorial surfeit '^ ■--.*.ssc<i 

great Gothic Hall, design" 
Henry VIII, when AnnI 
pure Gothic, one hundred 
sixty high, the roof very ^ 
with great taste and splena 
Henry. It is somewhat to— 
which was the scene of Wols 
lordly splendor, there shouia. " 

I.'s command, in 1718, Shakesipeare's plf^ Jj^ ^/ 

splendid an-as tapestry, r^j 
around .the hall hung p_- 
Jane Seymour, and Queorx 
deers' heads, carved from -« 
trophies. The notable fo^-- 
stained-class windows, tKix^tie 
one and the beautiful ^ ' 

portions, fine Gothic 
gla^H, bearing armorial 

a a* 


of H^ 

*^V^ beside^ 
^ rich ill beautii^*^ 


The Great Window is divided off into fourteen compartmentSi 
one of which has a half length portrait of King Henry, and the 
others are filled with armorial crests and devices. Six of the 
other windows bear the armorial pedigrees of the six wives of 
the king, and the others various heraldic designs. The archi- 
tecture and decorations of this noble hall are very well man- 
aged, and the subdued and colored light, falling upon the rich 
carving and Gothic tracery, produces an imposing and strik- 
ingly beautiful effect. 

After an inside view of the palace and its picture-galleries, 
the stroll through the great park is none the less delightfuL 
This park, or rather the gardens, as they are called, are ele- 
gantly laid out with beds of brilliant-colored flowers, broad 
gravel walks, beautiful closely-clipped lawns, and groups of 
splendid oaks and elms; and, although the grounds are al- 
most a dead level, with but little inequality, still they are so 
beautifully arranged a^ eo present a charming and romantic 
appearance. Here crowds of people walked beneath the 
great trees in the broad shaded avenues, sat on the velvety 
turf at the foot of great oaks, or paused and admired the huge 
plats of flowers, of brilliant hues and delicious fl*agi*ance, ar- 
ranged by the gardener's skill in beautiful combinationsfor 
strolled into the conservatory to see the orange trees, or into 
the vinery to see that celebrated grape vine, which is said to 
be the largest in Europe ; and a royal monster it is, indeed, 
stretching out its arms over one hundred and thirty feet, and 
having a stem that, at three feet jfrom the ground, measures 
over thirty inches in circumference. It was planted in 1768. 
Its fruit is the richest black Hamburg variety, and from two 
thousand to two thousand five hundred bunches of, the lus- 
cious spheroids are its annual yield. Not among the least of 
the attractions of the gardens is a maze, skilfully constructed 
of hedges about seven feet in height, and the walks to the 
centre, or from the centre to the outside, so skilfully contrived 
in labyrinthine passages of puzzling intricacy as to render it a 
matter of no ordinary difficulty to extricate one's self A 
guide, however, stands upon an elevated platform outside, and 


assists those by his instructions who are unable to do so,' and < 
give up the trial. The shouts of laughter of those who were 
entangled in the deceitful avenues told of their enjoyment of 
the ingenious puzzle. 

Near the maze is one of the large gates of the palace gar- 
dens, opening exactly opposite to Bushy Park ; and here wo 
passed out into a great avenue, a mile in length, of Lorso- 
chestnut trees, the air redolent 'wdth their red and white blos- 
soms. In this park the parties who come fi*om London to 
visit Hampton Court picnic, as no eatables or picknicking is 
permitted in the gardens of the latter. Hawkers and ped- 
lers of eatables and drinkables, oi all kinds and at all prices, 
were in every direction ; groups under the trees were chat- 
ting, lunching, and lounging, and enjoying themselves. 

The finest residence of English royalty, at the present time, 
is Windsor Castle ; and a pleasant railway ride of twenty 
miles or so from London brought us in sight of the splendid 
great Round Tower, which is so notable a feature of the place. 
It crowns the apex of a hill, and is a conspicuous landmark. 
Edward III. was bom here ; Cromwell and Charles II. have 
lived here ; and a statue of the latter is conspicuous in the 
great quadrangle of the castle, which you enter after mount- 
ing the hill. The towers around the walls bear such names 
as Edward III. Tower, Lancaster Tower, Brunswick Tower, 
Victoria Tower, &c. ; but the noblest of all is the great Keep, 
or Round Tower, which rises to the height of one hundred 
and twenty-five feet above the pavement of the quadrangle ; 
and up to the summit of this I toiled, to be repaid by the 
charming English landscape view spread out on every side. 
Twelve counties were within the range of vision ; the square 
turrets of old English churches, arched-stone bridges, the 
beautiful park and grounds beneath, with cricketers at play, 
and the beautiful sheet of water ("Virginia water"), like a 
looking-glass beneath the sun, and the Thames winding away 
in the distance like a silver ribbon on the green landscape, 
which was dotted with villages, elegant country seats and 
castle-like dwellings of the aristocracy, formed a picture that 
it was a luxury to look upon. 


Visitors are conducted through the state apartments, which 
contain many fine pictures, some magnificent tapestry, and 
which, of course, are furnished in regal style. The Gobelin 
tapestry, and a magm'ficeut malachite vase, — the latter a gift 
to the queen from Nicholas, Emperor of Russia, — were in the 
Presence Chainber. The Waterloo Chamber contained many 
fine portraits of Waterloo heroes by Sir Thomas Lawrence, 
and the Vandyke Room was hung only with pictures painted 
by that artist. 

It will be recollected that Edward III. instituted the Order 
of the Garter at Windsor, in 1349, and in St. George's Hall, 
or the State Dining-room, as it is called, is where the queen 
confers the order. At the upper end of this hall, which is two 
hundred feet in length, is the throne upon its raised dais. 
Upon one side of the apartment are hung the portraits of 
England's sovereigns, while upon the other are the coats of 
arms of the original Knights of the Garter, elegantly em- 
blazoned with their names and titles, and those of their suc- 
cessors. The ceiling is also elegantly ornamented. The most 
attractive apartment is the long gallery, about fifteen feet wide 
and fom* hundred and fifty long, which is rich in bronzes, busts, 
and pictures, although we looked with some interest at a 
shattered section of the mast of Lord Nelson's flag-ship, the 
Victory, which bears the mark of the enemy's cannon-shot, 
and is surmounted by a bust of Nelson, in a room called the 
Guard Chamber ; and in the same room is a shield, inlaid with 
gold and silver-work, presented by Francis I. to Henry VIII. 
at their celebrated meeting on the Field of the Cloth of Gold. 

Next after the state apartments St. George's Chapel en- 
gaged our attention. This chapel was begun by Edward IV., 
in 1461, and not completed till early in the sixteenth century. 
The architectural beauty of the interior is indescribable. 
The richly-ornamented roof and the great east window are 
most exquisitely done, and it is a wonder that. tourists, au- 
thors, and the guide-books do not say more than they do 
about it. Knights of the Garter are installed here. Their 
banners and escutcheons hang above their carved oaken stalls. 

WmDSOB PABKS. , 231 

A wrought steel sci'een, by that cunniDg artificer in ii'on, 
Quintin Matsys, stands above the last resting-place of Edward 
IV. Here, below the marble pavement, rests the gigantic 
frame of Henry VIII. ; here slumber Charles I. and Heniy 
VI., George III., IV., and William IV. The monument to 
the Princess Charlotte is a magnificent group, representing 
her upon a couch as if just expired, and a sheet thrown over 
the body, while her maids by its side, with mantles thrown 
over their heads, are bowed down with grief. Above, the 
epiiit is represented as an angel soaring towards heaven — a 
figure exquisitely cut, and so gracefully poised that the spec- 
tator half expects to see it rise, float away into the air, and 
soar out of sight. The effect is much heightened by the ad- 
mirable manner in which it has been managed to have the 
light fall upon this beautiful sculpture. 

There is a home park to Windsor Castle ; and how large, 
think you, American reader, is this home park for British roy- 
alty? Why, only five hundred acres! This is connected 
with Windsor Great Park by the Long Walk, a splendid 
avenue lined with elms, which avenue is continued on for 
three miles. The Great Park has one thousand eight hun- 
dred acres withm its area. Here was Windsor Forest, 
Heme's Oak, where Heme the Hunter was said to dash forth 
upon his steed, and where old FalstaflJ — 

** A Windsor stag, and the fattest, I think, i' the forest," — 

made his assignation with the meny wives of Windsor. 
Old Windsor itself is some little distance away, nestled down 
on the banks of the River Thames ; and though we saw some 
ancient houses and an inn or two, there were none that, in our 
brief sojourn, we could conjure by imagination into such a 
one as fat Jack and his fiiends, Bardolph and Pistol, swilled 
sack in, nor anything that looked like the Garter Inn, or Mis- 
tress Quickly. One inn rejoices in the name of Star and 
Garter, but the briskness and modem style of it savored not 
of Jack Falstaff's time. 

We closed our visit to Windsor with an inspection of the 


royal stables, or Queen's Mews, as they call them hert*. 
These stables were very well arranged and kept, and contain 
nearly a hundred horses when all are in. Many were away 
with tlie family, who were absent at the time of our visit ; 
but there were the horses for park drives, the horses for road 
diives, <fcc., while there were also a dozen or more very hand- 
some barouches, pony and basket carriages, and seven hand- 
some carriages for the queen and suite to go to and from rail- 
way stations, Clarences, and various other vehicles, among 
them a large open-sided affair, with a white tent-like rooi? ^ 
present from Louis Philippe. Considering that this is only 
one of the Queen's Mews, it seemed as if this part of her 
" establishment " was regal indeed. After patting the fat old 
white pony, which her majesty always uses in her morning 
drives in the park when at Windsor, we presented our cice- 
rone with an English shilling, which, notwithstanding he wore 
the queen's livery, he did not scorn to receive, and, taking a 
glance at the interior of the Riding School, which is a hand- 
somely-arranged room about two hundred feet long, where 
scions of royalty may be taught to 

" Witch the world with fioble horsemanship/' 

we bade adieu to Windsor. 

If there is any one thing aggi'avating to the American 
tourist, on his first trip to England, it is the supreme indif- 
ference of the English press to American affaii's. Accus- 
tomed to tlie liberal entei'prise of the press of his own country, 
which, with a prodigality of expenditure, stops at nothing 
when news is to be had, and which every morning actual] v 
gives him news from all parts of the world, in addition lo 
copious extracts from foreign and domestic papers, he is 
struck with astonishment at the comparative lack of enter- 
prise shown by the London papers. 

The London Times, which for the past half century it has 
been the custom for American papers to gratuitously advertise 
in paragraphs about its wonderful system and entei'prisQ, can 
no more compare with the New York Tribune and New 


York Herald in lateness of news, amount of news by tele- 
graph, and correspondence, than a stage coach with a loco- 

Marked features in the Times are the finished style of its 
editorials and corrcspondenGe^ and its parliamentaiy reports, 
although the latter, I hardly think, are much better made up 
than the American Congressional reports in our own paper*. 
But where the inferiority of the Enghsh, and the superiority 
of the American papers is most conspicuous, is ir the matter 
of telegi*aphic despatches, the American papers u&i^ig the 
telegi*aph without stint, and the English very sparingly. 
The New York Tribune will generally give its readere, cveiy 
morning, from five to eight times as much by home lines of 
wire as the London Times. To be sure we have a much 
larger extent of tenitory, at home, that the wires go over ; 
but then the American papere generally give more telegraphic 
news from the continent of Europe even, than the London 

The American, on his first visit to England, calls for the 
Times at his breakfast table, and if he is lucky enough to get 
one, turns eagerly to the telegraphic column to see what may 
bo the latest news from America. He finds a despatch of 
from six to twelve lines, in which the quotations of the price 
of United States stocks, New York Central, Erie, Illinois Cen- 
tral, and some other railroad shares, are given, and, perhaps, 
a line or two saying that Honorable Thaddeus Stevens, mem- 
ber of Congress, died this morning, or the president has 
appointed George S. Boutwell secretary of the treasury de- 
partment. A hundred other matters, which agect British 
and American commerce, are noP reported ; intelligence in- 
teresting to Americans, or any one who has ever been to 
America, is r.ot alluded to; extracts from American papers 
seldom given, and, when given, only such as will give r» preju- 
diced impression. Accounts of the commercial, agricultural, 
and material progress of the country seem to be carefully 
and jealously excluded from their columns, and after a month's 
reading of English newspapers, your wonder that the Eng- 


lish people are so ignorant- of America will give place to afr 
tonishment that they should have any connect impi-ession of 
it whatever. 

Take, for example, the well-kno^Ti speech of Senaior 
Sumner upon the Alabama claims, which, day after day, the 
papers of London thundered, roared, and howled over, wrote 
against and commented on, and not one of them printed in 
its columns until an American publishing house, in LondoDi 
in answer to the call for it, issued it in a pamphlet. Every 
American knows that had a speech of equal importance, re- 
lating to this country, been made in England, it would have 
been telegraphed to and have appeared in our journals, cn^iVe, 
within twenty-four houra after it had been made. Then, 
again, the enterprise of our own press is shown in its giving 
extracts, pro and con, of the opinions of the British press, so 
that the American reader feels that he is " posted," and may 
judge for himself; whereas, in the English papers, he gets 
only one side of the question, and a meagre allowance at 

Murders, railroad accidents, steamboat explosions, riots, and 
suicides are the favorite extracts from the American press 
made by tl^e London papers. The progi-ess of great rail- 
roads, increase of great cities in size, and the progi-ess of this 
country in industry, science, art, and manufactures, are only 
occasionally alluded to. 

My national pride being touched at these omissions, I in- 
quired the reason of them of a good-natured Englishman of 
my acquaintance one day. 

"Well, the fact is, yah see, we don't care much about 
x\mericar h'yar, yah know — yah know — 'cept when there's 
some deuced row, yah know, and then the Times tells us all 
about it, yah know." 

And it is even so; the national pride is so intense, that 
the Englishman, as a general thing, seems to care very little 
for anything that is not English ; his estimate of anything as 
good or bad is based upon its approach to or retreat fiom the 
British standard of excellence ; his national vanity leads him 


to care very little about the progress or decline of any other 
country, so long as it does not immediately affect his own 
" tight little island." Many have, apparently, pictured in their 
minds a map of the world like that of the Chinese topogra- 
pher, which gave their own country four fifths of the space, 
carefully drawn, leaving the remainder a blank, as occupied by 
outside barbarians. 

" But why," nsked I of my good-natured friend, " docs the 
Times give two columns of bets and horse-race matter, and 
only a dozen lines about the great Pacific Railroad ? " 

" Yaas, ah ! the Darby, yah know, — British national spoit 
— every Englishman knows about the Darby — couldn't make 
up a book without the Times, yah know. The Darby's right 
h'yar, and yah Pacific railway's three thousand miles ofl? yah 

It is to bo acknowledged there was a certain degree of force 
in this reasoning, but our American newspaper readers, who, 
from appearances, number as five to one compared with Eng-. 
lishmen, have been educated up to such a point of news-get- 
ting, that such an argument would fail to satisfy them. To 
hear some Englishmen talk, you would think the Times had 
been their swaddling-clothes in infancy, was their book of 
laws in manhood, and would be their winding-sheet at death. 

And yet the Times, despite its great influence, is far ex- 
ceeded in circulation by other papers in London — the Lon- 
don Telegraph, for instance, which, to an American, will seem 
in its general characteristics and enteiprise the most like an 
American paper. It takes more pains to make itself a sheet 
for popular reading. Its editorials are not so heavy, either ii) 
subject or matter, as the Times, but more off-hand and easier 
digested. It seems to' be the paper of the middling classes. 
In nearly every railroad station I stopped at in England a 
handsomely-painted sign-board, sometimes three and some- 
times six feet square, informed mo that the London Telegraph 
had the largest circulation in the world ; and immediately un- 
der it we were informed, upon another sign ol the same size, 
but another color, that the Evening Standai*d was the largest 


paper m the world. Besides these announcements on signs, 
we found them on posters of the same size all over London, 
wherever bills were posted, and also posted in other English 
cities — a style of advertising rather expensive, but hardly so 
efficacious as the columns of the newspaper. 

One is struck by the difference between the American and 
English as a newspaper-reading people. In America, news 
papei-s are seen everywhere ; boys hawk them at every comer; 
they are sold at news-stands in the entrance hall of every 
hotel ; newsmen pass through the cars with armfuls, at inter- 
vals, on every railroad line ; half a dozen are taken in every 
hair-dresser's shop for the use of custoraera ; and the great 
hotels have a reading-room with files from all the leading 
cities, so that a daily newspaper may be had in America, and 
is at hand at any and all times when the reader may wish 
it ; but here in London I found it comparatively a matter of 
difficulty always to obtain a daily paper. The hotel where I 
lodged, which had some thirty or forty guests, " took in " one 
London Daily Times, a Manchester paper, and one other 
weekly. Of course the first person who got the Times never 
resigned it until he had read it through, and exhausted the 
patience of anybody else who undertook to wait for it. There 
was no news-stand near, nor in the hotel — " the porter could 
liorder me a Times of the newsman, reg'lar, when he came 
round, if I wished it, as would be ready at breakfast." 

Some of my English fiiends smiled, almost incredulously, 
at my assertion that our American business men very gen- 
erally subscribed for from three to five daily papere, besides 
weeklies, and wondered "why they wanted to read the news 
over so many times," and were also astonished to know that 
American coachmen read newspapers while waiting for a 
fare, a porter while waiting for a job, or a handcart-man at 
his cart-stand, that they were always a prime necessity to 
passengers in cara and omnibuses, and were studied, conned, 
and perused at almost every interval of business, and oc- 
cupied no small portion of the leisure hours of all classes of 
American citizens. The railroad stations in London are pix> 


way into a public aiictiou sale, and there is a struggle be- 
tween some wealthy virtuoso and the museum agent for its 
possession. But he must be a bold buyer, with a deep purse, 
to contend successfully against the British Museum, when it 
is decided that any article offered for sale ought to be added 
to its collection. The museum is divided into eleven different 
departments, viz.: printed books and manuscripts, Oriental 
antiquities, Greek and Roman antiquities, British mediaaval 
antiquities, coins and medals, botany, prints and drawings, 
zoology, palaeontology, and mineralogy. 

The library is that portion of the museum most read about 
by strangers, and the least seen by visitors, as they are only 
admitted into a very few of the rooms in which this enor- 
mous collection is contained. There are now seven hundred 
thousand volumes, and the number increases at the rate of 
about twenty thousand a year ; and among some of the curi- 
osities and literary treasures in this department, I will men- 
tion a few, which will give a faint indication of its incalculable 
value. There are seventeen hundred different editions of the 
Bible, some very rare and curious ; an Arabic edition of the 
Koran, written in gold, eight hundred and sixty years ago; 
a collection of block books, printed from carved blocks wof 
wood on one side of the leaf only, which was a style of book- 
making immediately preceding the art of printing. 

We were shown specimens of the earliest productions of 
the printing press, some of which, for clearness and beauty 
of execution, are most remarkable. The Mazarine Bible, 
1455, is. very fine. Then we saw a copy of Cicero, printed 
by Fust and Schoeffer, in 1465. The first edition of the first 
Latin classic printed, and one of the two books in which 
Greek type was used ; — the press work of this was excellent 
A Psalter, in Latin, in 1457, by Fust and Schoeffer, on vellum, 
and the first book printed in colors, the tj^ography clear, and 
beautifully executed. The first edition of Reynard the Fox, 
printed 1479. A splendid copy of Livy, printed on vellum, 
in 1469, for Pope Alexander VL, and the only copy on vellum 
known to exist; — this volume cost nine hundred pounds in 


1815. The first edition of the first book printed in Greek 
characters, being a Greek Grammar, printed in Milan, in 1475. 
The first book in which catch-words were used. The fii*st 
book in which the attempt was made to produce cheap books 
by compressing the matter, and reducing the size of the page, 
was a little copy of Virgil, issued in Venice in 1501 ; and the 
])resent price would be far from cheap. The first book 
printed in France, the first in Vienna, <fcc. " The Game and 
Playe of Chess," printed by Caxton, in Westminster Abbey, 
in 1474, and which was the firat edition of the first book 
printed in England. Then there was the first edition of old 
Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, printed in 1476, by Caxton. 
Cauntyrbuiye was the way they spelled it in his time, 
^sop's Fables, with curious old wood-cuts, printed by Cax- 
ton, in 1484. The first printed document relative to Amer- 
ica, Columbus's letter, written eight months after his dis- 
covery, and printed in Rome in 1493. The firat edition of 
Paradise Lost, and of Robinson Cnisoe. And our eyes 
were made to ache by trying to read a " microscopic" edition 
of Horace, printed in the smallest type ever produced, and 
undecipherable except with a magnifying glass. 

Besides these, and hundreds of other old books, enough to 
drive a bibliomaniac out of his remaining senses, were speci- 
mens of fine and sumptuous printing, some of which, in the 
fifteenth century, on vellum, were a little short of marvel- 
lous in execution, and unsurpassed by anything. I ever saw in 
modem printing. An allegorical poem, in German, printed 
on the occasion of the mamage of Maximilian I., at Nurem- 
berg, in 1517, was a perfect wonder of typographic art and 
beauty, and challenges the attention of every one, more espe- 
cially those veraed in typography, as a marvel of the art. I 
have not space for enumeration of any of the wondrous 
specimens of beautiful illuminated works, printed on vellum 
and parchment, in colors undimmed by liundvcds of years, 
and which the printer of to-day labors in 'va^i^ ^^ surpass. 
The pm-ple and gold, the rich criinson atid emerald green, 
that absolutely flash out on the pages of t.lioae exquisite vol- 


umes known as Books of Hours, printed in 1488, 1493, and 
thereabouts, are the most prodigal luxury of the art I ever 
laid my eyes upon ; and the patience, labor, time, and can* 
required to bring out lines, spaces, and letters to such perfec- 
tion must have been very great, to say nothing of the quality 
of ink that has held its brilliancy for more than three cen- 
turies and a half. 

Next we have books tracing the rise and progress of illus- 
tration, and then a collection of books with autographs. In 
these last are some autographs worth having, as, for instance, 
the autograph of Martin Luther, in the first v.olume of a copy 
of the German Bible, which Bible was afterwards in the pos- 
session of Melanchthon, who wrote a long note on the fly-leaf 
of the second volume, signing it with his autograph ; an au- 
tograph of Charles I. in a volume of almanacs for the year 
1624; an autograph of Milton on a copy of Aratus's Phaenom- 
ena ; that of Lord Bacon on a copy of Fulgentius ; autograph 
of Katherine Parr, . last wife of Henry VIII., in a French 
volume ; and that of Ben Jonson in a presentation copy of 
his Volpone. 

The library has an extensive collection of newspapers, the 
oldest being a Venetian Gazette, bearing the date of 1570. 

The great reading-room of the library, where free admis- 
sion to read is granted to any person over eighteen years of 
age who can procure a recommendation from a person of 
respectability, is a magnificent apartment. It is a great cir- 
cular space, containing forty-eight thousand superficial feet, 
covered by a dome one hundred and forty feet in diameter, 
and one hundred and six feet high. This room is open from 
nine A. M. to five or six P. M., and is always well lighted 
and warmed, and contains thirty-seven reading tables, with 
two or three exclusively for ladies. The floor is covered with 
a material which deadens the sound of footsteps, and no loud 
talking is permitted; so that eveiy opportunity is afforded 
for quiet study. Quite a number were busily engaged, some 
with a large heap of volumes about them, evidently looking 
up authorities; others slowly and patiently transcribing or 


translating from some ancient black-letter volume before them; 
and still othera quietly and comfortably enjoying the lant new 
novel. There is space afforded for three liundred readei-s, and 
in the centre of the room, on shelves, are catalogues of the 
books and manuscripts contained in the library. Close at 
hand, running round the apartment, are shelves containing 
books of reference, or " lifts of the lazy," such as dictionai'ies, 
encyclopaedias, Ac, which readers are allowed to take from the 
slielves themselves. These form of themselves a library of 
twenty thousand volumes. For other books the itjader fills 
out a car^, and hands it to one of the attendants, who sends 
for it by othera, who fetch it from its near or distant shelf. 

The catalogue of the library is not (luished, and there is a 
saying that the man is not living who will see it finished, lb© 
regular additions and occasional bequests serving to keep it 
in a perpetually unfinished condition. The most noted of the 
bequests are those presented by Right Hon. Thomas Gren- 
vUlc and George III. The former donor, whose gift was 
twenty thousand two hundred and forty volumes, worth over 
fifty thousand pounds, bequeathed his library to the nation as 
an act of justice, saying in his will that the greater part of it 
had been purchased from the profits of a sinecure office, and 
he acknowledged the obligation to the public by giving it to 
the museum for public use. The library of Greorge III. con- 
tained eighty thousand volumes, and is kept in a gallery built 
expressly to hold it. • 

The Egyptian Galleries contain an endless collection of 
antiquities ft'om that ancient land. From Memphis there are 
old monuments, fragments of statues, slabs with innumerable 
hieroglyphics, while old Thebes, the capital of ancient Egypt, 
seems to have been ransacked to have furnished shibs, stones, 
carvings, fragments of monuments, hieroglyphical inscriptions, 
and sarcophagi. In these galleries we saw the granite statue 
of Ramescs II., the colossal granite head and shoulders from 
the Memnonium at Thebes ; the head of a colossal I'am ftom an 
avenue of them wliich leads up to the gateway of one of the 
great palaces at Eamak : here were two granite lions fironi. 



Nubia ; a colossal head brought from Kamak by Belzoni ; and 
heaps of carved plunder stolen from old Egypt by British 
travellers and the British goveimment; mummies, articles 
taken from mummy pits, ornaments, vases, Eg^'ptian papyri, 
monuments cut by chisels two thousand years before Christ ; 
implements the very use of which can now only be surmised ; 
cai'vings of scenes in domestic life that are guessed at, and of 
battles, feasts, sieges, and triumphs, of which no other record 
exists — a wonder to the curious, and a not yet solved problem 
to the scholar. 

The Assyrian Galleries, with their wealth" of Jtntiquities 
from ancient Nineveh, brought principally by Mr. Layard, are 
very interesting. Here we may study the bass-relief from 
Sennacherib's palace, and the hieroglyphics on a monument to 
Sardanapalus, and bass-reliefs of the battles and sieges of his 
reign ; the best specimens of Assyrian sculpture, glass, ivory, 
and bronze ornaments, mosaics, seals, ' obelisks, and statues, 
the dates of which are from seven to eight hundred years be- 
fore the Christian era. Think of being shown a fragment of 
an inscription relating to Nebuchadnezzar, and another of 
Darius I., a bass-relief of Sardanapalus the Great, the waiting 
implements of the ancient Egjrptians, the harps, flutes, and 
cymbals, and the very dolls with which tlieu* children played 
three thousand years ago ! 

The lover of Roman and Grecian antiquities may enjoy 
himself to his heart's content in the Roman and Grecian Gal- 
leries, where ancient sculptm*es by artists whoso nanles have 
perished, though their works still challenge admiration, will 
attract the attention. In these galleries the gods and god- 
desses of mythology are liberally represented — the Townley 
Venus, Discobolus (quoit-thrower), elegant bust of Apollo, 
heads and busts of noble Greeks and Romans, and the cele- 
brated marble bust, Clytie; that exquisitely-cut head rising 
above the bust^ which springs from a half-unfolded flower. 
* The Elgin Marbles are in two rooms, known as the Elgin 
Rooms. These marble sculptures were obtained by the Earl 
of Elgin, in 1802, while he was the British ambassador at 


Constantinople, the sultan granting him a firman to remove 
from Athens whatever monuments he might wish. He ac- 
cordingly stripped from the Parthenon huge slabs of bass- 
reliefs, marble figures, and ornamental portions of that noble 

Whatever may be said of this desecration of the Athenian 
temple, it is altogether probable that these world-renowned 
sculptures and most splendid specimens of Grecian art are 
better preserved here, and of more service to the world, than 
they would have been if sufibred to remain in the ruin of the 
temple. 'The beauty of these sculptures, notwithstanding the 
dilapidated and shattered condition of some of them, shows 
in what perfection the art flourished when they were executed, 
and the figures are models yet unsurpassed among artists of 
our o^vn time. 

Besides these galleries, there is also a gallery of Anglo- 
Roman antiquities, found in Britain, another of British anti- 
quities anterior to the Romans, embracing such remains as 
have been found of the period previous to the Roman con- 
quest, known as the stone and bronze period among the anti- 
quaries ; also a collection of Anglo-Saxon antiquities, including 
Saxon swords, spear-heads, bronze ornaments, coins, Ac. ; then 
comes a medisBval collection, a vast array of enamelled work, 
vaSes, jewelry, armor, mosaic work, seals, earthen ware, and 
weapons of the middle ages ; two great Vase Rooms, filled 
with Grecian, Italian, Roman, and other antique vases, fomid 
principally in tombs and ancient monuments, from the rudest 
to the most graceful of forms ; the Bronze Room, where we 
revelled amid ancient Greek, Roman, and Etruscan bronzes, 
and found that the Bacchus, Mercury, and Jupiter, and the 
lions, dolphins, satyrs, and vases of antiquity, are still the most 
beautiful and graceful works of art extant, and that a large 
portion of those of our own time are but reproductions of 
these great originals of a former age. 

If the visitor have a zoological taste, the four great galleries 
of zoological specimens — beasts, birds, reptiles, and fishes — 
ii*ill engage his attention, in which all sorts and every kbid of 


stuffed specimens are displayed; and in another gallery a 
splendid collection of fossils may be inspected, where are the 
remains of the gigantic iguanodon and megalosanrus, skeleton 
portions of an enormous bird, ten feet high, from New Zea- 
land, — the unpronounceable Latin name of which I forgot to 
note down, — a splendid entire skeleton of the great Irish deer, 
fossil fish, imprints of bird tracks found in rocks, of skele- 
tons of antediluvian animals, plants, and shells, and huge 
skeletons of the megatherium and mastodon, skeletons and 
fragments of gigantic reindeer, elk, oxen, ibex, turtles, and huge 
lizards and crocodiles now extinct. There are also halls and 
departments for botany and mineralogy, coin and medal room, 
which,'be8ides its splendid numismatical collection, contains 
the celebrated Portland Vase, and some curious historical 

Apropos of historical relics ; in a room not fiir from the en- 
trance haU there are some most interesting historical and lit- 
erary curiosities, over and about which I loitared with un- 
abated interest, for here I looked upon the orijinal deed of a 
house in Blackfriars, dated March 11, 1612, and signed Wil- 
liam Shakespeare. Here we saw the original Magna Charta, 
the very piece of parchment that had been thumbed by the 
rebellious barons, and to which King John affixed his unwill- 
ing signature at Runnymede, June 15,1215. This piece -of 
discolored parchment, with the quaint, regular, clerkly old 
English handwriting, and the fragment of 'the tyrant's great 
seal hanging to it, is the instrument that we have read so 
much of, as the chief foundation of the constitutional liberties 
of the people of England, first executed over six centuries 
and a half ago, and confirmed since then by no less than thirty- 
eight solemn ratificadons. It is certainly one of the most in- 
teresting English documents in existence, and we looked upon 
it with feelings something akin to veneration. 

Displayed in glass cases, we read the original draft of the 
will of Mary, Queen of Scots, in her own handwiiting, the 
original manuscript of Kenilworth in Walter Scott's hand* 
writing, the ori^nal manuscript of Pope's transition of th^ 


Iliad, a tragedy in the handwriting of Tasso, the original 
mannsciipt of Macaulay's England, Sterne's Sentimental 
Journey in the authoi^s handwriting, Nelson's own pen 
sketch of the battle of the Nile, Milton's original agreement 
for the sale of Paradise Lost, which was completed April 27, 
1667, the author being then fifty-eight years of age. The 
terms of the sale, which was made to Samuel Symons, a 
bookseller, was five pounds down, with a promise of fivo 
pounds more when thirteen hundred copies of the first edition 
should have been sold, another five pounds more when thir- 
teen hundred copies of the second edition should be sold^ and 
so on for successive editions. It was not, however, till 1674, 
the year of his death, that the second edition was published; 
and in December, 1680, Milton's widow sold all her interest in 
the work for eight pounds, paid by Symons. 

We saw here the little prayer book used by Lady Jane 
Grey on the scaffold, with her name, Jane Dudley, in her own 
handwriting on the fly-leaf; autographic letters from British 
sovereigns, including those of Richard IIL, Heniy IV., Prince 
Hal, Edward the Black Prince, Henry VIII., and Queen 
Elizabeth, Bloody Mary, Charles II., Mary, Queen of Scots, 
and Oliver Cromwell. Nor were these all. Here were Ho- 
garth's receipted bills for some of his pictures, the original 
Bull of Pope Leo X., conferring on Henry VIII. the title of 
Defender of the Faith (and a precious bull he made of it), 
autographic letters of Peter the Great, Martin Luther, Eras- 
mus, Calvin, Sir Thomas More, Cardinal Wolsey, Archbishop 
Cranmer, John Knox, Robert, Earl of Essex, Dudley, Earl of 
Leicester, Francis Bacon, Sir Isaac Newton; then a batch of 
literary names, letters from Addison, Dryden, Spenser, Mo- 
liere, Comeille; papers signed by Geoi-ge Washington, Ben- 
jamin Franklin, Horatio Nelson, Napoleon Bonaparte, Francis 
L, Philip II., Gustavus Adolphus, Charles XII. of Sweden, 
and so many fi*esh and interesting surprises greeted me that I 
verily believe that at last I should have copied down in the 
little note-book, fi-om which I am writing out these memo 
randa, a despatch fi*om Julius Caesar, announcing that he yes- 


terday passed the River Rubicon, or bis " Veniy Vtdi^ Vici^ 
with the feeling that it was quite correct that such a rloco- 
ment should be there. 


Fbom London to Paris. One of the thoughts that comes 
uppeimost in the mind while one is making preparations for 
the journey is the passage of the Channel, about which so 
much has been said and wiitten — a passage in which old 
Neptune, though he may have exempted the traveller on other 
occasions, hardly ever fails to exact his tribute. He who can 
pass the Channel in rough weather without a qualm, may 
henceforth consider himself proof against any attack of the 
sea god upon his digestion. 

A fii-st-class through ticket from London to Paris costs 
nearly fifteen dollars in gold ; but many cheapen the fare by 
taking first-class boat and second-class railroad tickets. The 
railroad ride to Dover is about seventy miles, and the close 
of it carries us through a tunnel that pierces the celelnated 
Shakespeare's Cliff; and finally we are landed on the pier 
near the little steamer that is to take us over.' After a good 
long stare at the high, chalky cliffs of old Albion, we disposed 
ourselves upon deck, comfortable as possible, and by rare 
good fortune had a smooth passage ; for of the entire number 
of passengers, not a single one suffered from seasickness 
during the transit ; so that the huge piles of wash-bowls were 
not even brought into requisition, and the stewards and boat 
boys grumbled at the luck that deprived them of so many six- 
pences and shillings. 

" 'Tisn't horfen the Chan'l nins as smooth as this,** said an 
old weather-beaten sort of sea chambermaid, who stood guard 
over the bowls. "She's flat as Dover Pier to-day; but/* 


of the hotel, and were with diiBculty made to undei stand, 
by a proficient in their own tongue, that rooms for the party 
were engaged there. 

This house and the Grand Hotel, which, I believe, are 
" ran " by the Credit Mobilicr Company, are perfect extortion 
mills in the matter of charges, especially to Americans, whom 
the Parisians make a rule always to charge very much more 
than any one else. During the Exposition year, the Grand 
Hotel extortions were but little shoit of barefaced swindles 
upon American guests ; and to tliis day there is no way one 
can quicker arouse the ire of certain American citizens than 
to refer to their experiences in that great caravanserai for 
iho fleecing of foreign visitors. 

The cuisine of these gi-eat hotels is unexceptionable, the 
rooms, which are either very grand or very small, well fur- 
nished, although comfort is too often sacrificed to display ; but 
the attendance or attention, unless the servants are heavily 
feed, is nothing to speak erf, while the charges during the 
travelling season are a third beyond those of other equally 
good, though not " grand " establishments. 

The magnificent new opera house, near these hotels, is a 
huge building, rich on the exterior with splendid statues, mar- 
bles, medallions, carving, and gilding, upon an island as it 
were, with the great, broad avenues on every side of it ; and 
.MS I sit at table in the salle a manger looking out at it, I 
am suddenly conscious that the English tongue appears to be 
predominant about me ; and so indeed it is, as a large portion 
of the guests at these two hotels are Americans or English, 
which accounts in a measure for the high prices and bad 
service, the French considering Americans and English who 
travel to be moving money-bags, from which it is their duty 
to extract as much as possible by every means in their power. 

The court-yard of the Grand Hotel, around which, in the 
earning, gentlemen sit to sip a cup of cofiee and puff a cigar, 
is such a rendezvous for Americans, that during the Exposi- 
tion it was proposed by some to post up the inscription, 
** French Spoken Here," for fear of mistakes. 


The modes of living, besides that at hotels, have been fro* 
qaently described, and in taking apartments, one mnst be 
very explicit with the landlord ; indeed, it will be well to take 
a written memorandum from him, else, on the presentation 
of his fii-st bill, one may ascertain the true value of a French- 
man's word, or rather how valueless he considers a verbal 

We had the fortune, however, in hiring apartments, to deal 
with a Frenchman who undei-stood how to bargain with 
foreigners, and had learned that there was something to bo 
gained by dealing fau'ly, and having the reputation of being 

This man did a good business by taking new houses im- 
mediately after they were finished, hiring furniture, and let- 
ting apartments to foreigners. From him we learned that 
French people never like to live in an entirely new house, 
one that has been dwelt in by othcre for a year having the 
preference ; perhaps this pre-occupation is supposed to take 
the chill off the premises ; so our landlord made a good thing 
of it in taking these houses at a low rent of the owners for. 
one year, and getting a reputation for fair prices, fair dealing, 
and an accommodating spirit : those who hired of him were so 
prompt to commend him as an exception among the crowd 
of grasping, cringing rascals in his business, that his houses in 
the pleasant quarter, near the Arc d'Etoile were constantly 
occupied by Americans and English. 

In Paris do as the Parisians do ; and really it is difficult to 
do otherwise in the matter of meals. Breakfast here is taken 
at twelve o'clock, the day being commenced with a cup of 
coffee and a French roll, so that between twelve and one 
business appears at its height in the cafcs^ and almost sus- 
pended every V. here else. To gastrononaio Yankees, accus- 
tomed to begin the day with a good "fiquare" meal, the 
French dejeuner is hardly sufficient to Rupport the three 
hours' sight-seeing our countrjTnen calculate upon doing be- 
tween that time and the real dejeuner a l(Z ^ourchette. 

The sights and scenes of Paris have "been so tt^oxoughl^ 


described within the past three years, in every style iind every 
vein, by the aimy of correspondents who have visited the 
gay capital, that beyond personal experiences it seems now 
as though but little else could possibly be written. I there- 
fore look at my closely-written note-book, the heap of little 
memoranda, and the well-pencilled fly-leaves of my guide- 
books, of facts, impressions, and experiences, with some feel- 
ings of doubt as to how much of this already, perhaps, too 
familiar matter shall be inflicted upon the intelligent reader; 
and yet, before I visited Paris, every letter of the descriptive 
tourist kind was of interest, and since then they are doubly 
so. Before visiting Europe, such letters were instruction for 
what I was to one day experience ; and many a bit of useful 
information, read in the desultory letter of some newspaper 
con-espondent which had been nearly forgotten, has come to 
mind in some foreign capital, and been of essential service, 
while, as before remarked in these pages, much of the im- 
portant minutiaB of travel I have been sui-prised has not been 
alluded to. That surprise in a measure vanishes, when any 
one with a keen love of travel finds how much occupies his 
attention amid such an avalanche of the enjoyable tilings 
that he has read, studied, and dreamed o^ as are encountered 
in the great European capitals. 

In Paris my first experience at living was in lodgings in 
a fine new house on Avenue Friedland, third flight {au 
troisieme). The apartments consisted of a salon^ which 
served as parlor, breakfast and reception room, a sleeping- 
room, and a dressing-room with water fixtures and pegs for 
clothing. The gi*and Arc d'Etoile was in full view, and but 
a few rods from my lodgings, and consequently the very first 
sight that I " did." 

This magnificent monument of the firat Napoleon is almost 
as conspicuous a landmark in Paris as is the State House in 
Boston, and seems to form the terminus of many of the broad 
streets that radiate from it, and upon approaching the city 
firom certain points overtops all else around. The arcL is 
situated in a large, circular street, called the Place d'Etoile, 


wbich IS filled with elegant houses, with gardens in front, and 
is one of the most fashionable quarters of Paris : from this 
Place radiate, as from a great star, or like the sticks of a 
lady's fan, twelve of the most magnificent avenues of the 
city, and from the top of the arch itself the spectator can look 
straight down these broad streets for miles. It is quite re- 
cently that several of them have been straightened and 
widened, under the direction of Baron Haussmann ; and one 
cannot but see what a commanding position a battery of 
artillery would occupy stationed in this Place d'Etoile, and 
sweeping down twelve great avenues to the very centre of 
the city. 

The length, breadth, straightness, regularity, and beauty 
of these avenues strike the American visitor with astonish- 
ment. Fancy a street twice as wide as Broadway or Wash- 
ington Street, with a sidewalk as wide as some of our ordinary 
streets, and shaded by a double line of trees, the street itself 
paved or laid in concrete or smooth hard asphalte ; the houses 
tall, elegant, and of uniform style ; brilliant, with elegant 
stori i, cafes with their crowds at the tables set in fi*ont of 
thei .1 ; the gay, merry throngs ; little one-horse barouches, the 
French voitures, as they are called, flying here and there, and 
the more stylish turn-outs of the aristocracy, — and you have 
some idea of the great avenues leading up to the Arc d'Etoile. 
After passing this grand arch, you enter upon the magnificent 
Avenue de I'Imperatrice, three hundred fee"^ wide, which leads 
to the splendid Bois de Boulogne, an avenue that is crowded 
with the rush of elegant equipages, among which were to be 
seen those of foreign ambassadors, rich residents, English and 
other foreign noblemen, French ballet-dancers, and the demi- 
monde, every pleasant afternoon. 

This gi'eat arch of triumph overwhelms one with its gran- 
deur and vastness upon near approach; it lifts its square altar 
over one hundi*ed and fifty feet from the ground ; its width is 
one hundred and thirty-seven feet, and it is sixty-eight feet in 
thickness. The grand central arch is a great cmve, ninety 
feet high ani forty-five wide, and a transverse arch — that is^ 



one going through it fi*om one end to the other — is fiftywseven 
feet high and twenty-five wide. The arch fronts the mag- 
nificent Champs Elys^es, adown which broad vista the visitor 
looks till he sees it expand into the grand Pljtce de la Con- 
corde, with its fountains and column of Luxor, beyond which 
rise the Tuileries. The outside of this arch has superb groups, 
representing warlike scenes, allegorical figures, &c., by some 
of the most celebrated French and Italian artists. Some of 
the great figures of Victory, History, Fame, &c., are from 
eighteen to twenty feet in height. Inside the arch, upon its 
walls, are cut hi the solid stone the names of nearly a hun- 
dred victories, and also the names of French generals whose 
bravery won so much renown for the French nation, so much 
glory for theii* great Corsican captain, and which ai-e names 
that are identified with his and la grande armee. 

This superb monument was commenced, in 1806, by Na- 
poleon, but not completed till 1836; and some idea maybe 
obtained of , the work and skill expended upon it from its cost, 
which was ten million four hundred and thirty-three thou- 
sand francs, or over two millions of dollars in gold. Two of 
the groups of bass-reliefs upon it cost nearly thirty thousand 
dollars. Ascent to the top is obtained by broad staircases, 
np a flight of two hundred and seventy-two "steps, and the 
visitor may look down the Avenue de la Grande Ann6e, 
Avenue d'Eylau, or over the beautifiil Avenue de I'lmp^ra- 
trice, or Champs Elysoes, far as his eye can reach, and still 
farther by the aid of the telescopes and spy-glasses kept by 
the custodians on the summit. 

Descending from the arch, we will take a stroll down the 
Avenue des Champs Elys6es — the broad, beautiful avenue 
which appears to be the favorite promenade of Parisians, 
Upon either side of this avenue are open gi-ounds, and groves 
of trees, in and amid which is every species of cheap amuse- 
ment for the people — open booths in which are little games 
of chance for cheap piizes of glass ware and toys, merry-go- 
rounds, Punch and Judy shows, elegant cafes with their 
throngs of patrons sitting in front and watching the passers 

. " P»t« '" 'Iree, „ 


laxity which characterize all art'angcments at places of public 
resort and throughout the city, give the stranger a feeling of 
perfect safety and confidence — confidence that he is under 
the protection and eye of a power and a law, one which is 
prompt and efficient in its action, and in no way to be trifled 
with. The fiacre drivers all have their printed carte of the 
tarifl^ upon which is their number, which they hand to cus- 
tomers upon entering the vehicle ; these can be used in case 
of imposition or dispute, which, however, very seldom occurs; 
rewards are given to drivers for honesty in restoring articles 
left in vehicles, and the property thus restored to owners by 
the police in the course of a year is very large, sometimes 
reaching sixty or seventy thousand dollars. 

Straight down the broad Champs Elys6es, till we came 
into that magnificent and most beautiful of all squares in 
Paris, the Place de la Concorde. Here, in this great open 
square, which the guide-books describe as four hundred paces 
in length, and the same in width, several other superb views 
of the grand avenues and splendid public buildings are ob- 
tained. Standing in the centre, I looked back, up the broad 
Champs Elysees, more than a mile in length, the whole 
course slightly rising in grade, till the view terminated with 
the Triumphal Arch. Looking upon one side, we saw the old 
palace of the Bourbons, now the palace of the Corps Legis- 
latif. Fronting upon one side of the Place are two magnifi- 
cent edifices, used as government offices, and up through the 
Rue Royale that divides them, the vista is terminated by the 
magnificent front of the Madeleine. 

Here, in the centre of the square, we stood opposite the 
celebrated obelisk of Luxor, that expensive gift of the Pacha 
of Egj7)t to Louis Philippe, and which, from the numerous 
bronze models of it sold m the fancy goods stores in America, 
is getting to be almost as familiar as Bunker Hill monument. 
Indeed, a salesman in Tiffimy and Company's room of 
bronzes, in Broadway, New York, once told me that, not- 
withstanding the hieroglj'phics upon the bronze representar 
tious of this obelisk that they sell, he had more than once 


ha4 people, wlio looked as thongh they ought to have known 
better, cry out, "O, here's Bunker Hill Monument; and it 
looks just like it, too." 

The Luxor obelisk was a heavy, as well as an expensive 
present, for it weighed five hundred thousand pounds, and 
it cost the French government more than forty thousand 
dollars to get it in place upon its pedestal ; but now that it is 
here, it makes a fine appearance, and, as far as proportions 
and looks go, appears to be very appropriately placed in the 
centre of this magnificent square, its monolith of red granite 
rising one hundred feet; though, as wo lean over the rail 
that surrounds it, the thought suggests itself, that this old 
chronicle of the deeds of Sesostris the Great, who reigned 
more than a thousand years before Paris had an existence, 
and whose hundred-gated city is now a heap of rains, was 
really as out of place here, in the gi'eat square of the gayest 
of modem capitals, as a funeral monument in a crowded 
street, or an elegy among the pages of a novel. Around the 
square, at intervals, are eight huge marble statues, seated 
upon pedestals, which represent eight of the great cities of 
France, such as Marseilles, Roueji, Lyons, Bordeaux, Ac. 
Each figure is said to face in the direction in which the city 
or town it is called for lies from Paris. 

The great bronze fountains that stand in the centre of the 
square have round basins, fifty feet in diameter, above which 
rise others of lesser sizes. Tritons and water nymphs about 
the lower basin hold dolphins, which spout streams of water 
into the upper ones, and at the base sit ponderous granite 
figures, which the Parisians say do well to sit down, for, if 
they stood up, they would soon be fatigued by their own 
weight. But the great fountain here in the Place de la Con- 
corde marks an historic spot. It is no more nor less than the 
site of that horrid instrument, the guillotine, during the 
French revolution ; and it was here, in this great square, now 
filled with bright and happy crowds, gazing at the flashing 
waters of the fountains, the statues, and obelisk, or rambling 
amid the pretty walks, lined with many-hucd flowers, in the 


gardens of the Tuilleries near by, — it was here, round and 
about, that the fierce crowd surged during some of the 
bloodiest scenes in French history. Near where rises the 
bronze fountain, the honid scaffold once stood ; here, where 
the crystal streams rush and foam, shine and sparkle in the 
sunbeams, once poured out the richest and basest blood of 
France, in torrents almost rivalling those that now dash into 
the great basin that covers the spot they crimsoned; here 
the head of Louis XVI. fell from his shoulders ; ^lere Char- 
lotte Corday met death unterrified ; here twenty-two Giron- 
dists poured out their life-blood ; here poor Marie Antoinette 
bent her neck to the cruel knife, and the father of Louis 
Philippe met his death ; here the victims of the fell tyrant 
Robespierre fell by hundreds. At length Danton himself and 
his party, were swept before the descending axe ; and finally 
the bloody Robespierre and his fierce associates met a just 
retribution beneath the sweep of the insatiate blade, sixty or 
seventy falling beneath it in a day. 

Great heavens I would they never tire of blood, or was the 
clang of the guillotine music to their ears, that for more than 
two years they kept the homd machine in motion, till twenty- 
eight hundred victims fell beneath its stroke! Well said 
Chateaubriand, in opposing the erection of a fountain upon 
the very site of the scaffold, that all the water in the world 
would not be sufficient to efface the bloody stains with which 
the place was sullied. It thus fell out that it was agreed, 
that any monument placed in this memorable square shoidd 
be one which should bear no allusion to political events, and 
the gift of Mehemet Ali afforded opportunity to place one. 
So liere the laudatory inscription to a warlike Egj'ptian of 
three thousand years ago and more is placed, to change the 
current of men's thoughts, who may stand here and think of 
the sm-ging crowd of fierce sans-culottes^ and still fiercer 
women, who once thronged this place, and who were treated 
to their fill of what their brutal natures demanded — blood, 
blood I 

But are these the people that would do such horrid deeds 


— these men we see around us, with varnished boots, immac- 
ulate linen, and irreproachable costume ? these ladies,, gentle 
ereatures, with faultless costume, ravishing boots, dainty toi- 
lets, and the very butterflies of fashion ? If you would like 
something approaching a realization of your imagination, 
wait till you get into the Latin quarter, or in some of the 
old parts of Paiis, where narrow lanes have not yet been 
made into broad avenues; where low-browed, blue-bloused 
workmen are playing dominoes in cheap wine-shops; and 
coarse women, with big, bare, red arms, and handkerchief^ 
swathed heads, stand in the doorways and bandy obscene 
jests at the passers by; where foul odors assail the olfac- 
tories; where you meet the sergent'cle-ville frequently; and 
where, despite of what you have heard of the great improve- 
ments made in Paris,. you see just such places as the Tapis 
Franc^ described in Eugene Sue's Mysteries of Paris, and in 
which, despite the excellence of the Parisian police, you had 
rather not trust yourself after dark without a guard ; and you 
will meet to-day those whom it would seemingly take but 
little to transform into the fierce mob of 1792. 

The gigantic improvements made in Paris during the 
reign of Louis Napoleon are apparent even to the newly- 
arrived tourist, and are unequalled by any city in the world. 
Broad, elegant avenues have been cut through densely-pop- 
ulated and filthy districts ; great squares, monuments, operar 
houses, theatres, and public buildings of unexampled splendor 
have arisen on every side ; palaces and monuments have been 
repaired and restored, the great quadrangle of the Louvre 
and Tuilleries completed. Turn which way one will, he sees 
the evidences of this remarkable man's ability — excellent 
police arrangements, drainage, public works, liberality to for- 
eigners, Ac. What little opportunity I had of fudging the 
Frencli people almost leads me to believe that no govemmexvt 
could be invented under the sun that would satisfy tl^em^*o^ 
any length of time, and that they would attempt re^oVxxtAOiia 
merely for a new sensation. . 

From this square it is but a few steps to tte g»r Aea o V » 




Tuilleries. The portion of the garden that is immediatelj 
contiguous to the palace is not open to the public, but sepa- 
rated from it by a sort of trench and an ii'on railing. The 
public portion of the garden is beautifully laid out with 
parterres of flowers, fountains, bronze and marble statues, 
&c. While promenading its walks, our attention was at- 
tracted to a man who seemed upon the best of terms with 
the birds that flew from the trees and bushes, and perched 
upon his head, hands, and arms, ate bird-seed off his hat and 
shoulders, and even plucked it from between his lips. He 
was evidently either some " Master of the Birds to the Em- 
peror," or a favored bird-charmer, as he appeared to be famil- 
iarly acquainted with the feathered warblers, and also the 
police, who sauntered by without interfering with him. 

The exciting scenes of French history, that are familiar to 
every school-boy's memory, render Paris, to say nothing of 
its other attractions, one of those points fraught with histori- 
cal associations that the student longs to visit. To stand 
upon the very spot where the most memorable events of 
French history took place, beneath the shadow of some of 
the self-same buildings and monuments that have looked 
down upon them, and to picture in one's mind how those 
scenes of the past must have appeared, is pleasant experience 
to those of an imaginative turn. Here we stand in the Place 
de la Bastille, the veiy site of the famous French prison ; the 
horrors of its dungeons and the cruelties of its jailers have 
chilled the blood of youth and roused the indignation of nia- 
turer years ; but here it was rent asunder and the inmost secrets 
exposed by the furious mob, in the great revolution of 1789, 
and not a vestige of the terrible prison now remains. In the 
broad, open square rises a tall monument of one hundred and 
fifty feet, from the summit of which a figure of Liberty, with 
a torch in one hand and broken chain in another, is poised 
upon one foot, as if about to take flight. The stones of the 
cruel dungeons of the Bastille now form the Pont de la Con 
corde, trampled under foot, as they should be, by the throngs 
that daily pass and repass that splendid bridge. The last hia 



torical and revolutionary act in this square was the burning 
of Louis Philippe's throne there in 1848. 

Passing through the Rue de la Paix, celebrated for its 
handsome jewelry and gentlemen's furnishing goods stores, and 
as a street where you may be sure of paying the highest price 
asked in Paris for any thing you wish to purchase, we came 
out into the Place Vend6me, in the middle of which stands 
the historic column we have so often read of, surmounted by 
the bronze statue of the great Napoleon, who erected this 
splendid and appropriate trophy of his victories. One hun- 
dred and thiity-five feet high, and twelve in diameter, is this 
well-known column, and the bronze bass-reliefs, which com- | 

mencc at the base and circle round the shaft to its top, are i 

cast from twelve hundred pieces of Russian and Austrian j 

cannon, which the great Corsican captured in his campaign 1. 

of 1805, which ended with the tremendous battle of Auster- ') 

litz. The bass-reliefs on the pedestal are huge groups of weap- 
ons, war-like emblems, Ac, and four huge bronze eagles, 
weighing five hundred pounds each, holding wreaths, are J 

perched at the four comers of the pedestal. 

The iron railing around this monument is thickly hung 
with wreaths of immortelles / these are placed here by the 
sm'viving soldiers of the grand army of Napoleon I., and are 
renewed once a year upon some celebrated anniversaiy, when 
the spectacle of this handful of trembling veterans of the first 
empire, showing their devotion to the memory of their great 
chieftain, is a most touching one, while the deference and hon- 
or shown to these shattered relics of France's warlike host, 
whose deeds have won it an imperishable name m military 
glory, must be gratifying to their pride. 1 bslw an old ahrunk- 
. en veteran with a wooden leg hobbling a\ong witli a stick, 
who wore an old-fashioned oiniform xiX>on ^^^^^^ gWttcred the 
medals and decorations of the fira^ emp^^^ ^ "^^^"^ ^-^if^a 
nelsatpubUc stations, as he passed pr^^^'^^r -Tl^s of 
clang and clatter that seemed to J A *^^ ^^'""I^lLm 
dying fi«. up into his eyes, with ^ TL^^^V TTl^r^ 
beneath his shaggy white eyebro^g^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^'^ 


hand in acknowledgment to his old-fashioned kepi^ while the 
military salutes, and even deferential raising of hats, of young 
officers, his superiors in rank, that he passed, were returned 
with a smile beneath his snowy mustache that bespoke what 
an incense to his pride as a soldier of the grand army were 
all such tokens. 

But it was a still more interesting sight to see, at the court- 
yard of the Hotel des Invalides, at about noon, on the occasion 
of some daily nrihtary routine, some thirty or forty of these 
old soldiers in various uniforms, wearing side arms only, some 
hobbling upon one leg, others coming feebly but determinedly 
into line as they ever did on the great battle-fields of the 
empire, and stand in dress parade while the band played its 
martial strains, and their own fags surmounted by the French 
eagles waved before them, and a splendid battalion of French 
troops (some of their sons and grandson^, perhaps), officers 
and men, presented aims to them as they saluted the flags 
they had won renown under half a century before, and then 
slowly, and with an effiDrt at military precision that was al- 
most comical, filed back to their quarters. 

We used to read in Rogers's poem of Ginevra that, 

<' If ever 70a should come to Modena, 
(Where, among other relics, you may see 
Tassoni's bucket ; but 'tis not the true one ; ") 

SO, also, if ever you should go to Paris, you will be shown at 
one end of the Louvre a large window, fiom which you will 
be told Charles IX. fired upon the flying Huguenots as they 
ran from the ferocious mob that pursued them with bloody 
weapons and cries of " E[ill, kill ! " on the night of St. Bar- 
tholomew, 1572 ; but this window is "not the true one," for 
it was not built till long after the year of the massacre ; but 
the old church of St. Germain I'Auxerrois, near by, from the 
belfiy of which first issued the fatal signal of that terrible 
night, is still standing, and the Parisians in that vicinity find 
it easy to detect strangers and foreigners, firom their pausing 
and lookirg up at this church with an expression of interest. 


The Lou ma ! Every letter-writer goes into ecstasies over 
it, is strack with wonder at its vastness, and luxuriates in the 
inspection of its priceless treasures. The completion of the 
connection of the Louvre with the Tuilleries, made by Louis 
Napoleon, gives a grand enclosed space, surrounded on all 
sides by the magnificent buildings of this great gallery of fine 
arts and the royal palaces. 

^ At one end, dividing the couit-yard of the Louvre from 
that of the Tuileries, rises the triumphal Arc du Can-ouael, 
erected by Napoleon in 1806, surmounted with its car of 
victory and bronze horses ; and here the memory of the army 
of the first empire is perpetuated by statues of cuirassiers, 
infantry and artillerymen, in the uniform of their different 
corps, and the fashion in vogue at that time, while bass- 
reliefs represent various battle scenes in which they figured. 
It was in this op6n space, now the most magnificent court in 
Europe, that the guillotine was first set up, before it was re- 
moved to the square which is now the Place de la Concorde. 
An iron fence runs across the court-yard at this point, mak- 
ing a division of the space, as it is from an entrance in the 
palace, fronting this arch, that the emperor, empress, and im- 
perial family generally make their entrance and exit. 

The architectural appearance and ornaments of these ele- 
gant buildings combine to form a splendid interior, as it were, 
of this vast enclosed square ; the buildings, fronted with Co- 
rinthian colunms, elegant and elaborate sculptures, and stat- 
ues, form a space something like a vast parallelogram, their 
uniformity being interrupted by magnificent and lofty pavil- 
ions, as they are called. When we say the Boston City Hall 
is somewhat of a poor copy of one of these pavilions, it may 
give the reader an idea of what they are. Their fronts are 
adonied with great groups of statuary, wreaths, decorations, 
and allegorical figures, beautifully cut, and through their vast 
gateways ingress is had from the street. All along the front 
of the buildings, upon this interior space, are statues of dis- 
tinguished men of France. I counted over eighty of them. 
Among them were those of Colbeit, Mazarin, Racine, Voltaire^ 
Yauban, Buffon, Richelieu, Montaigne, &c. 


The completion of the connection of the two palaces by Louis 
Napoleon has rendered this court-yard indescribably grand aud 
elegant, while its vastness strikes the beholder with, astonish- 
ment. The space that is now enclosed and covered, by the old 
and new Louvre and Tuileries is about sixty acres. An idea of 
the large amount of money that has been lavished upon these 
elegant piles may be obtained from the fact that the cost of 
the sculptures on the new part of the building is nearly half 
a million dollars; but then, perhaps, as an American re- 
marked, it ought to be a handsome place, since they have 
been over three hundred years building it. Some of the 
finest portions of the architectural designs of tho facade of 
the Louvre were completed by Napoleon I. from the desim 
of Perrault, a physician, and the author of fully a.s -enduri 
monuments of genius — those charming fairy tales of C* 
derella, Bluebeard, and the Sleeping Beauty. I^erhans th ' 
ornamental columns and beautiful decorations were 
thing of a realization of his ideas of palaces o-f tj^^ x* . . 
and genii, in his charming stories. 

The work of improvement upon the buildings and 
yard of the Louvre is still going on, and the present em 
will leave here, as well as in many other parts of p*. ,• ^^ 
impress of his power, as used for beautifying the f ren , * 
ital, and raising enduring monuments of the ericoura ^^P" 
of improvements, progress, and the arts, during j^j^ P ^^^ 

We have been in and through the Louvre, not in ^ ' . . 
but again and again, over acres of flooring, past ^rin ^^}^ 

tures, — a plethora of luxurious art, — days of ^|«.q /j V^^ 
houi*s of sight-seeing. How many originals Wo "ha ^* ^^ 
upon that we have seen copies of in every style ! h S^^^^i 
pictures of great artists that we have read o^ anrl h ^^^^y 
curious and wonderful historical relics atxd r»nf ^|^^y 
What an opportunity for the student and th^ J^ st. ^^^^® ^ 

source ^^ fl-mnsPTripnt. nnfl pnt.oTt.nmTTir^Tit. ^.^ ^ aax a 

an opportumty for the Student and thcx ^c* ^ ,^^^ 
^ \. A * ^ ' * ^ artist, wtat 

Buurue of amuscmcnt and entertainment, \v^y. • . ^ 

in these old countries, is the free admissioj^ i e ^ ^^^> 

aud well-stocked galleries of art— here, ^v^ ^^ e^^ ^^^^^ 
hundreds of celebrated pictures and stat,^ ^eV?' ^ ^<i^ 


dark tresses at, and the combs, needle and toilet cases that 
they used; musical instruments, games, and weights and 
measures ; articles of ornament, and of the household, that 
have been exhumed from the monuments of ancient cities — 
ix rare and curious collection; then come the Algerian mu- 
seum, the Renaissance sculpture gallery, with beautifal 
groups of bronze and marble statuary, dating fr-om the com- 
mencement of j;he sixteenth century, among which is the cel- 
ebrated one of Diana with the Stag, the likeness being that 
of Diane de Poitiers, mistress of Heniy II. ; then come the 
five different halls of modem sculptures, where we saw Cano- 
va's Cupid and Psyche, Julien's Ganymede and Eagle, Bar- 
tolini's* colossal bust of Bonaparte, and groups representing 
Cupid cutting his bow from Hercules' club, Perseus releasing 
Andromeda, and many others. 

Next we reach the museum of antique marbles, a grand 
gallery, divided off into half partitions, and rich in superb 
ancient statuary. One of the halls of this gallery is noted 
as being that in Avhich Henry IV. was married ; and here, 
too, was his body brought after his assassination by Ravail- 
lac ; but the visitoi-'s thoughts of historical associations arc 
banished bv the beautiful works of art that meet him on 
every hand. Here is Centaur overcome by Bacchus, the 
Borghese Vase, the Stooping Venus, Pan, the Three Graces, 
Hercules and Telephus, Mai*s, Cupid proving his bow, Dan- 
cing Faun, a magnificent figure of Melpomene, twelve feet high, 
with the drapery falling so naturally about as almost to cheat 
belief that it was the work of the sculptor's chisel ; another 
magnificent colossal figure of Miners'a, about ten feet high, 
armed with helmet and shield; the Borghese Gladiator, a 
splendid figure ; Wounded Amazon, Satyr and Faun, Diana 
and the Deer, Wounded Gladiator, Bass-relief of triumphal 
procession of Bacchus and Ariadne, &c. 

I am aware that this enumeration will seem something like 
a reproduction of a catalogue to some readers, though it is 
but the pencilled memoranda of a veiy few of the notable 
pieces in this magnificent collection, before which I was ena» 

k GODDESS. 265 

bled to bait anything like long enougli to examine strictly 
and admiJe ; for the days seemed all too short, our few weeks 
in Paris too brief, and this grand collection, with other sight- 
seeing, a foimidable undertaking, as we now began to con- 
template it, when I found myself still upon tliis basement 
floor of the Louvre after nearly a day's time, and the thought 
that if my resolution to see the whole, systematically and 
thoroughly, were faithfully carried out, almost a season in 
Paris would be required, and but little time left for anything 

I have seen copies, and busts, and cngi*avings of the Venus 
of Milo a hundred times, but never was attracted by it 
enough to go into raptures over its beauty, being, perhaps, 
unable to view it with an artistic eye ; but as I chanced to 
approach the gi*eat original here from a very favorable point 
of view, as it stood upon its pedestal, with the mellow light 
of the afternoon falling upon the beautiful head and shoul- 
ders, the effect upon me was suiprising to myself. I thought 
I never before had gazed upon more exquisitely moulded fea- 
tures. The features seemed really those of a goddess, and 
admiration divided itself in the beauty of the production and 
the genius of an artist that could conceive and execute it. I 
am not ashamed to say, that during the hour I spent in the 
room in which this beautiful work of art is placed, I came to 
a better understanding concerning some of the enthusiasm 
respecting art manifested by certain friends, which I had 
hitherto regarded as commonplace expressions, or was at loss 
*o understand the real feeling that prompted their fervor. 

If the visitor is amazed at the line collection of sculpture 
and statuaiy, what are his feelings at beholding the grand 
and almost endless halls of paintings as he ascends to the 
flooi'S above ! Here, grand galleries, spacious and well lighted, 
stretch out seemingly as far as the eye can reach, while halls 
and ante-rooms, here and there passages, and vestibules, and 
rooms, are crammed with the very wealth of art ; here the 
c/iefs d^ceuvre of the gi'eat artists of Europe, known all over 
the world l)y copies and engravings, are collected; and tho 


pleasure of looking upon these great originals is a gratifica- 
tion not easy to be described. 

The lover of art, as he passes from point to point, from 
one gi*eat work to another, to each fresh surprise that awaits 
him, feels like shaking hands mentally with himself in con- 
gratulation at the enjoyment experienced in seeing so much 
of real and genuine art collected together, and under such 
favorable circumstances. 

The paintings in the galleries arc all arranged according to 
different schools of art. Thus the Spanish, Dutch, and Ger- 
man schools are aiTaycd in one gallery, the Italian in another, 
the modern French school in another ; and these are further 
arranged in subdivisions, so that the student and art lover 
may study, inspect, or copy, in any department of art that he 
may desire. 

What a host of masterpieces in the gi-eat gallery ! And 
here were artists, male and female, copying them. Some, 
with little easel and chair, were merely sketching a single 
head from a group in some grand tableau. Others, with huge 
framework, and mounted up many feet from the floor, were 
making full copies of some great painting. Students were 
sketching in crayon, upon crayon paper, portions of designs 
from some favorite artist. Ladies were making cabinet copies 
of paintings, and othei*s copying celebrated heads upon tab- 
lets of the size of miniatures ; and one artist I observed 
putting a copy of a group upon a handsome vase that was 
before him. Nearly eveiy one of the most noted paintings by 
gi-eat masters liad two or tliree artists near it, making copies. 

The Grand Gallery, as it is called, is a quarter of a mile 
long, and over forty feet wide, and with its elegantly orna- 
mented ceilings, its magnificent collection of nearly two 
thousand splendid paintings, including some of the finest 
masterpieces in the world, and Superb vista, presents a coitp 
(Toeil that can hardly faU to excite enthusiasm even from those 
who are not professed admu-era of pictures. 

Think of the lux iry of seeing the original works of Raphael, 
Rembrandt, Titian, Rubens, Claude Lorraine, Holbein, Paul 


Veronese, Guido, Quintin Matsys, Muiillo, Teniere, Ostiide, 
Wouverman, Vandyke,. David, Andrea del Sarto, Vemet, 
Leonardo da Vinci, Poussin, Albert Durer, Ac., bosides those 
of other celebrated artists, all in one gallery ! And it is not a 
meagre representation of them either, for the Louvre is rich 
in works from each of these great artists. There was Paul 
Veronese's great picture of the Repast in the House of Simon 
the Pharisee, thirty-one feet long and fifteen high, and his 
Marriage at Cana, a magnificent tableau, thirty-two feet long 
and twenty-one high, the figures splendid portraits of cele- 
brated persons ; Titian's Entombment of Christ ; Raphael's 
beautiful picture of the Virgin and Cliild ; Murillo*s Concep- 
tion of the Virgin, which cost twenty-four thousand six hun- 
dred pounds ; Landscape by Claude Lon*aine ; a whole gal- 
lery of Rubens, and another of Joseph Vemet's Seaports ; 
then there is the Museum of Design, of fourteen rooms full 
of designs, over thirty thousand in number, of the great mas- 
ters in all schools of art. Here one may look on the original 
sketches, in pencil and India ink, of Rembrandt, Holbein, 
Durer, Poussin, and other great artists. 

It would be but a sort of guide-book review to enumerate 
the different halls and their wonders, such as one that is de- 
voted entu-ely to antique terra cottas, another to jewelry and 
ornaments of the medieval and renaissance period, another to 
specimens of Venetian glass ware, of exquisite designs and 
workmanship, another to bronzes, &c. The Museum of Sov- 
ereigns was interesting in historical relics ; for it was some- 
thing, remember, to have looked upon the sceptre, sword, and 
spurs of Charlemagne, the arm-chair of King Dagobert, the 
alcove in the room where Henry IV. (" King Heniy of Na- 
van-e ") used to sleep ; Marie Antoinette's shoe, her cabinet 
and casket ; Henry II.'s armor, and the very helmet through 
which the lance of Montgomeri went that killed him in the 
tournament in 1569; Charles IX.'s helmet and shield, the 
coronation robes of Charles X., and a host of other relics that 
have figured in French history. 

One room is devoted to relics of Napoleon I., and is called 


the Hall of the Emperor. Here you may look upon the very 
miiform that he wore on the bloody field of Marengo, a 
locket containing his hair, the flag of the Old Guard, that he 
kissed when he bade adieu at Fontainebleau, the veritable 
gi*ay overcoat which he wore, and the historical cocked hat 
which distinguished him, the cockade worn when he landed 
from Elba, the great coronation robes worn when he was 
ci'owned emperor, his sword, riding whip, and saddle, the 
pockct-handkcrcliief used by him on his death-bed, articles 
of clothing, &c. The cases containing these articles were 
thronged, and the curious French crowd looked upon them 
with a sort of veneration, and occasional exclamations of won- 
derment or sympathy, as some descriptive inscription was 
read and explained to an unlettered visitor by his more fortu- 
nate companion. 

But suffice it to say that the Louvre, with its superb collec- 
tions, and its almost endless " Salles de — " everything, is 
overwhelming in the impression it gives as a wealth of art. 
It is impossible to convey a correct idea of it to the lover of 
art, or even the longing lover of travel who has Europe in 
prospect. In the words of the modern advertisers, it must bo 
seen to be appreciated, and will require a great many visits to 
see enough of it to proj)erly appreciate it. 

Right opposite the Louvre, across a square, is the Palais 
Royal, attractive to all Americans and English from tho 
restaurants, and jewelry, and bijouterie shops, which are (»n 
the ground floor, and form the continuous arcade* or four sides 
of the square of the garden which they enclose. This garden 
is about a thousand feet long and four hundred wide, witli 
trees, flowers, and fountain, and a band plays in the aflcmoon 
to the entertainment of the crowd of loungers who have dmcd 
at the Trois Fr^res, Vefour, or Rotonde, lounge in chairs, and 
fiip cafe noir^ or absinthe, if Frenchmen, or smoke cigara and 
drink wine, if Americans. The restaurants here and in the 
vicinity are excellent ; but one wants a thorough experience, 
or an expert to teach him how to dine at a French restaurant; 
otherwise he may pay twice as much as he need to have done, 


and then not get what he desired. Fresh anivals, English 
and Americans, are rich game for the restaurants. They 
know not all the dodges by which the Frenchman gets four 
or five excellert courses for almost half what it costs the unin- 
itiated, such as ordering a four-franc dinner, with a privilege 
of ordering so many dishes of meat, so many of vegetables, 
or one of meat* for two of the latter, or the ordering of one 
" portion " for two persons, &c. And I do not know as my 
countrymen would always practise them if they did ; for being 
accustomed at home to order more than they want at a res- 
taurant, and to make the restaurant-keeper a free gift of what 
they do not use, they arc rather apt, in Paris, to " dam the 
expense," and order what suits their palates, without investi- 
gating the cost till they call for the garden with " VadditionP 

The jewelry shops in the arcade around the Palais Royal 
Garden are of two kinds — those for the sale of real jewelry 
and rich fancy goods, and those selling the imitation. These 
latter are compelled by law to keep a sign conspicuously dis- 
played, announcing the fact that their wares are imitation, 
and any one found selling imitation for real is, I understand, 
severely punished. The imitation jewelry stores are very at- 
tractive, and it is really quite remarkable to what perfection 
the art is canied. Imitation of diamonds, made from polished 
rock-crystal, which will retain their brilliancy for some months, 
mock coral, painted sets, imitation gold bracelets, chains, neck- 
laces, sleeve-buttons, and earrings, of every conceivable de- 
sign, very prettily made. 

The designs of this cheap jeweli-y are fully equal to that of 
the more costly kind, and it is retailed here in large qnantitica 
at a far more reasonable price, in proportion to its cost, than 
is the Attleboro' jewehy in our own country. Tlie arcade 
used to be thronged with Americans wbo pvitclxafted generally 
from a handful to a half peck each of tbo attxa^^^^^^ andpret- 
ty articles which are so liberally di^r^love ^ ^^^^* ««.* or 

The French shopkeeper a J<jt^^f/ae-<^- ^^^S 
foreigner, and very many of them v! i« t^ *^'' ?rST m v«n 
ingly; so that one soon ascert^s ^^^^j^ i^txoX.Vftw^^^^ 


to urge a reduction in price, even in establishments where 
huge placards of " Prix Fix6 " inform you that they have a 
fixed price for their goods, which may mean, however, that it 
is " fixed " according to the customer and his anxiety to pur- 
chase. I myself had an experience in the purchase of a pair 
of oraaments. Inquiring the price, I was informed, " Eight 

" Ah, indeed ! That is more than I care to pay." 

" For what price does monsieur expect to obtain such beau- 
tiful articles ? " 

« Six francs." 

" C'est impossible ! " (shrugging his shoidders and elevating 
his eyebrows) ; " ici le prix est ^x^ : " but monsieur should 
have them for seven francs, as they had been taken from the 

Monsieur was indifferent ; he " remercier'd " the shopkeeper; 
he did not care to pay but six francs, and walked towards the 
door ; but the salesman followed him, and, as he reached the 
threshold, presented monsieur the articles in question, neatly 
enveloped in one of his tissue paper shop-bills. It was posi- 
tively too cheap, but " pour obligor monsieur," he would give 
him this " bon march6 " for the six francs. 

We paid the six francs accordingly; but pur satisfaction 
respecting the "bon march6" was somewhat dampened at 
seeing the very self-same description of articles we had just 
purchased at six francs a pair displayed in a window, scarcely 
half a dozen stores distant, ticketed, in plain figures, three 
francs a pair. 

Passing along through one of the busiest streets of Paris 
one day, we observed the entrance or passage from the street 
to the lower story of one of the houses hung with black and 
decorated with funeral trappings; in fact, the interior ar- 
ranged as a sort of little apartment, in the midst of which, 
exposed to full view to all passera by, stood a coffin, sur- 
rounded by candles, with crucifix at its head, and all the 
usual sombre emblems of mourning; pedestrians, as they 
passed, respectfully imcovered, and such exposition, we were 


patent hinges in the middle, he expects to put into the pnoe 
of the goods when he cheats you in your purchases. Attend- 
ance in sickness, and service at your hotel, are measured by 
the fi-ancs' worth, till at last, understanding the hoUowness 
of French politeness, its hypocrisy and artificial nature, you 
long for less ceremony and more heart, and feel that there is 
much of the former, and little, if any, of the latter, in the 
Frenchman's code. 

Speaking of funerals naturally inclined us to turn our steps 
towards the celebrated cemetery of P^re Lachaise, which has 
suggested many of the rural cemeteries in our own country 
that in natural attractions now so far surpass it ; but Pere 
Lachaise cemetery, which was formerly an old Jesuit strong- 
hold, was first laid out in 1804, and now it is the largest 
burial-ground of Paris. It contains over twenty thousand 
tombs, besides innumerable graves, and occupies two himdred 
and twelve acres of undulating ground. Some of the older 
parts of it present a rasty and ill-kept appearance. Before 
reaching the entrance gate, we had indications of its proximity 
from the long street through which we passed being almost 
entirely filled on both sides with the workshops of marble 
and stone cutters, and funeral wreath manufacturers. Monu- 
ments of every conceivable design, size, and expense wei'e 
displayed, from the elegant and elaborate group of statuary 
to the simple sLab or the little one-franc plaster Agnu% JDei^ 
to mark the gi-ave of the poor man's infant. There were 
quantities of shops for the sale of wreaths of immortelles^ 
bouquets, and other decorations for graves, and scores of men 
and girls at work fashioning them into various designs, with 
mottoes varied for all degi*ees of grief, and for eveiy relation. 
These are the touching ones : " To My Dear Mother," " My 
Dear Father," "My Sweet Infant," "To My Dear Sister;" 
and the friendly ones, " To My Uncle," " My Aunt," " My 
Friend;" or the sentimental ones, " Mon Cher Felix," "Ma 
Chdre Marie," "Alphonsine," "Pierre," Ac; besides bouquets 
of natural flowers, and vases for their reception, of every style, 
and graduated for every degree of grief and the limit of every 

274 MILLIONS nr marblb. 

the labyrinths or the winding cypress-shaded paths of thifl 
crowded city of the dead. 

There were, we were informed, over eighteen thousand 
different monuments in the cemetery, ranging from the simple 
cross or slab to the costly mausoleum, such as is raised over 
the Countess Demidoff, — the most expensive and elaborate 
monument in the grounds, — which is reached by elecrant 
flighls of steps, and consists of a broad platform, supported 
by ten splendid white marble Doric columns, upon which 
rests a sarcophagus, bearing a sculptured cushion, with the 

arms and comet of the deceased restinr? tborr»/x« t^i.- 

«^ X * ;i 4.1, 1. ^ i_.i, ^ wiereon. ihis mon- 

ument stands upon the brow of a hill, and occupies one of the 
most conspicuous positions m the cemetery But It f n 
onr guide, taking a glance at a few of the notable feaTui^s of 
the place; for that is all one can do xn a single visit and in the 
three houi-s' stroll which we make thronrrV* ♦!. 
tive parts. ^^ ^^ ™°«* ^t*^ 

You can hardly walk a dozen stepa without enconnterin<. 
tombs bearing names famihar and celebrat rl • . . » 
scientific, religious, or literary history • and th ^iintary, 

one has to study the taste in monuments obT^''''^'^'*^ 
mausoleums, p}Tamids, and sarcophaoi mav h ' % ^^ urns, 
the fact, that upon these tributes to departed ^^ ^""^^ ^^^ 
mentos of loved ones, no less than five mill- ^^^^' ^^^ ^^ 
about twenty-five million dollars in gold, have b"^ sterling, or 
since the cemetery was first opened. Tho ^^ ^^ri^ended 
of the old portion of Pdre Lachaise are ro^tiT^ f^nd walks 
contrast with the newer part, and suffer m !?• ' ^^^ ^^ ^^^ 
with the broad, spacious, well-rolled ave^^ *^ ^^omparisou 
Mount Auburn and Forest Hills, or the nat^^^o ^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ 
beauties of Greenwood Cemetery. ^? ^^^ artificial 

We fii-st took a glance at the Jewish /!• • • 
grounds, which is separated from the rest K ^^^^lon of the 
the monument of Rachel, the celebrated a t ^ ^ ^all, where 
out to us, and also those bearing the name r i>' ^^^ Pointed 
Fould. We then walked to that most inter^ -j^^^^^^schild and 
generally the first one of any note visit 1 i*^^ Monument, 

®^ wy tourists, an 


actual evidence and memento of the tinith of that sad and 
romantic history which is embahned in the memory of youth, 
the monument of Abclard and H61oise. This is a little open 
Gothic chapel, in which is the sarcophagus of AlxSIard, and 
upon it rests his eiffigy, and by his side that of Heloisc. 

The monument is built from the ruins of Paraclete Abbey, 
of which H61oise was abbess, and its sculptured figures and 
decorations are very beautiful, although suffering from decay 
and neglect. A bunch or two of fresh violets and forget-me- 
nots, wliich we saw lying upon the breast of the recumbent 
figure, showed that sentimental visitors still paid tribute to 
this shrine of disappointed love. 

As we advanced farther into the grounds, monuments bear- 
ing well-known names, distinguished in science, literature, and 
art, met the eye on every side. Here is that of Arago, the 
astronomer ; Talma, the great actor of Napoleon's time ; Ber- 
nardin de St. Pierre, the author of Paul and Virginia; David, 
the celebrated painter; Pradier, the great sculptor; Chopin, the 
musician; Scribe, the dramatist; Racine, the poet; Laplace, the 
astronomer; and Lafitte, the banker. Then we come to the 
names of some of those military chiefs that surroimded the 
great soldier of the first empire, and helped him to write the 
name of France in imperishable records upon the pages of 

Here rests Marshal Kellermann ; here rises a granite pyramid 
to Marshal Davoust, who won his laurels at Eylau, Fiiedland, 
and Auerstadt, the great cavalry action of Eckmuhl, and, ex- 
cept Ney, who was the most prominent in the tremendous bat- 
tle of Borodino, and the disastrous retreat from Russia ; here 
Suchet, who commenced his career with Napoleon at the 
siege of Toulon, sleeps beneath a white marble sarcophagus ; 
Macdonald and Lefebvre are here ; and a pyramid of white 
marble, bearing a bafes-relief portrait, rises to the memory of 
General Mass^na, " a veiy obstinate man," and ** the favorite 
child of victory" — him whom Napoleon once told, "You 
yourself are equivalent to six thousand men." Passing monu- 
ment ;ifter monument, bearing names the birthplaces of 


whose titles were victorious battle-fields, we were guided 
by our conductor to a little square plat of ground enclosed 
by a light railing ; it was gay with many-hued flowers in full 
bloom, filling the air with their fragrance. The old guide 
stopped, and reverently taking off his cap, turned to us, say 

ingj — 

" Hommage^ monsieur^ a le plus brave dea braves — a 

Ifarechal NeyP 

I involuntarily followed his example. " But where," asked 
I, looking about on every side, "where is his monument?" 
' 't His monument, monsieur," said the old fellow, di-awing 
himself up as erect as possible, and dramatically placing his 
hand upon hia left breast,— " his monument is the memoiy of 
his brave deeds, which will live forever in the hearts of the 

French people." 

Such a reply, coming firom such a speaker, astonished me ; 
and 1 ahnost expected to see the staff change to a musket, 
the tattered cap mto a high grenadier "bearskin," and the 
old blouse into the faced uniform of the Garde Imperiale ; 
there was such a flavor of Napoleon Bonaparteism in the re- 
sponse, that that of the garlic was for the moment forgotten, 
and we considered the reply mcreased the value of the speak- 
er^s services to the extent of another fi-anc. 

I stood, afterwards, opposite the spot where Marshal Ney, 
"the rear guard of the grand army" in the retreat from Russia, 
the last man who left Russian territory, " the bravest of the 
brave " was shot according to decree on the 7th of Decem- 
ber I'siS. It is a short distance foim the south entrance of 
the gardens of the Palais du Luxembourg, and is marked by 
a bronze statue of the great marshal, wko is represented iu 
the attitude of leading his troops, sword in hand, as he did 
at the head of the Old Guard, after four horses had been shot 
under him, in the last charge on the disastrous field of Wa- 
terloo. A marble pedestal is neariy covered with an enu- 
meration of the battles in which he distinguished liimself 
Ha was indeed the "hero of a hundred battles." 

passing through another path, we came to the monument 


a huge block of red granite or porphyry, weighing one hun^ 
dred and thirty-five thousand pounds, most beautifully pol- 
ished, brought from Finland at a cost of thirty thousand 
doUare, covering another huge block twelve feet long by six 
in width, which in turn rests upon a splendid block of greeu 
granite, the whole forming a monument about fouileen feet 
high. The pavement of this ckcular crypt is a huge crown 
of laurels in green marble in a tessellated floor of white and 
black marble; within the laurels are inscribed Marengo, 
Austerlitz, Jena, Rivoli, Wagram, and other great victories, 
the whole pavement being a most exquisite piece of mosaic 
work ; around the circle stand twelve colossal statues, facing 
the tomb, representing victories. We descended to this crypt 
by passing to the rear, and beneath the high altar, where we 
found the entrance guarded by two huge caryatides bearing im- 
perial emblems ; passing the sarcophagus, we come to a chapel 
where is the sword of Austerlitz, groups of flags captured by 
the French in battle, and other mementos of the emperor. 

The elegant finish of the marble-work in the interior of the 
Church of the Invalides strikes one with astonishment ; its 
joining is so perfect as to be more like cabinet-making than 
masonry ; the light is so managed as to fall into the crypt 
thi'ough a bluish-purple glass, and striking upon the polished 
marble, as one looks down from above, gives the crj'pt the 
appearance of being filled with a delicate violet halo — a novel 
and indescribable effect. The marble of the monument, the 
sculpture, and decorations of the crypt, chapel, &c., cost one 
million eiglit hundred thousand dollars in gold — a costly 

The interior oi* the Invalides is circular, with arms of a 
6ross extended north, south, east, and west. The great dome 
is a splendid piece of architecture, the summit of which is 
over three hundred feet from the pavement ; and high up in 
the cupola Ave see a splendid picture representing our Saviour 
surrounded by saints and angels, which must be colossal in 
size to appear as they do of life-size from below. In chapels, 
in the angles formed by the cross, are other splendid mom^ 

ments to diating"'' ^'' pc 
Augustin U the tc^'^'^ of j 
King of Spain, a bug^ sarco 
far from this is th«« of Va' 
ginecr>i, also a sarcopfiigus o 
an effigy of Vauban, eurronjn 
gorical statues beside him. 1 
is in the chapcL dedicated to C 
black marble casket on gilt <3 
stands his statue. A mouuzxi 
lients him dying in the arms < 
an eagle at his feet. 

Each of the ehajiels is de^J 
decorated by frescoes repres' 
chapels, monuments, and all, ^ 
insignificant compared with *• 
neatli the grand dome in the J 
grand altar, and around whicli. 
swords and victorions wrea,t:l 
watch and ward over the do^V 

One can easily imagine tha'' 
the French nation in his tt^ 
palace and parks of Versailles^ 
such a prodigal and princely 
ings, mngniiicent chapels, tli 
hotrhouses, parks, fountains, J* 
supply which was brought a-^ 
twelve nules in extent, and S 
visitor looks about him, he i^ 
of wealth on every side. H^<^ 
hundred millions of dollars 
groat permanent French cxp*^ 
the French nation. 

Fasding through the town* 


approaching the palace. This is a gi'cat open space eight 
hundred feet broad, from which we enter the gi*and coui-t, or 
Cour d'Honneur, a space about four liundred feet wide, lead- 
ing up to the palace buildings, which are various, iiTegular, 
and splendid piles, oniamented with pavilions, plain, or dec- 
orated with Corinthian columns, and statues. In the centre 
of .the upper part of this great court stands a colossal eques- 
trian statue of Louis XIV., and upon either side, as the vis- 
itor walks up, he observes fine marble statues of distinguished 
Frenchmen, such as Colbeit, Jourdan, Mass6na, Conde, Riche- 
lieu, Bayard, &c. Entering the palace, which appears irom 
this court a confused mass of buildings, one is overwhelmed 
' with its vastness and magnificence. Some idea of the former 
may be obtained by passmg through, and taking a sun'ey of the 
western, or garden front, which is one continuous pile of build- 
ing a quarter of a mile in extent, elegantly adorned with richly- 
cut columns, statues, and porticos, and, when \iewed from the 
park, with the broad, very broad flights of marble steps leading 
to it, adorned with vases, countless statues, ornamental balus- 
trades, &c., strikingly reminding one of the pictorial representa- 
tions he has seen of Solomon's Temple, or perhaps more strik- 
ingly realizing what he may have pictured in his imagination 
to have been the real appearance of that wonderful edificew 

The collection of pictures and statuary in tl\e Historical 
Museum is so overwhelming, and the series of rooms appar- 
ently so interminable, that a single visit is inadequate to do 
more than give the visitor a sort of confused general idea of 
the whole. Guides, if desired, were furnished, who, at a 
charge of a franc an hour, will accompany a small party of 
visitors, and greatly facilitate their progress in making the 
best use of time, and in seeking out the most celebrated ob 
jects of interest. Attendants in livery were stationed at di^ 
ferent points through the buildings, to direct visitors and 
indicate the route. 

Here, in the great Historical Museum, are eleven spacious 
rooms, elegantly decorated, and containing pictures on his- 
torical subjects from the time of King Clovis to Louis XVI. 


Here is Charlemagne dictating his Code of Laws, Henry IV. 
entering Paris, the Siege of Lille, Coronation of Louis XIV^ 
and many other immense tableaux filled with figures, and of 
great detail. 

There are the Halls of the Crusades, five magnificent rooms 
in Gothic style, and forming a gallery of paintings illustrating 
those periods of history, and, of course, such events as French 
crusaders were most prominent in. The walls and ceilings 
are ornamented with armorial bearings anjd devices of French 
crusaders ; and in the wall of one of the rooms are the Gates 
of the Hospital of the Order of the Knights of St. John of 
Jerusalem, given to Fiince de Joinville, by Sultan Mahmoud, 
in 1836. The great pictures of the desperate battles of the 
mail-clad warriora of the cross and the Saracens arc given 
with gi'aphio fidelity, the figures in the huge tableaux nearly 
or quite the size of life, and the hand-to-hand encounter of 
sword, cimeter, battle-axe, and mace, or the desperate stinig- 
gles in the " imminent deadly breach," the fierce escalade, the 
terrific charge, or the desperate assault, represented with a 
force, vigor, and expression that almost make one's blood 
tingle to look upon them. Here was a magnificent picture 
representing a Procession of Cinisaders round Jerusalem, an- 
other, by Delacroix, representing the Taking of Constanti- 
nople, Lariviere's Raising the Siege of Malta, and Raising the 
Sie('.e of Rhodes, the Battle of Ascalon, Taking of Jerusalem, 
Taking of Antioch, Battle of Acre ; also the portraits of 
Jaoues Molay, Hugh de Payens, De La Valette, and other 
gi'and commanders of the order. 

Another series of elegant halls, seven in number, had some 
magnificent colossal pictures of modem battles, such as the 
Battle of Alma, Storming of the Mamelon, the Return pf the 
AiTiiy to Pi-ris in 1859, and Horace Vemet's celebrated pic- 
ture of the Surprise of Abdel-Kader's Encampment, a most 
spirited specimen of figure-painting. Then came a spirited 
picture of the Storming of the Malakofi*, Storming of Sebas- 
topol. Battles of Magenta, &c., and several Gne battle-pieces 
by Horace Vemet. Then there are rooms with scenes in the 


campaign in Morocco, whole galleries of statues, galleries of 
French admirals and generals, series after series of six, eight, 
or ten gi'eat apartments, each a gallery of itself. 

The " Grand Apartments," as they are called, occupy the 
whole of the central portion of the palace facing the gardens, 
and appear more like the creation of a magician, or of the 
genii of Aladdin's lamp, than the work of human hands. Eich 
hall is given a name, and distinguished by the superb fi'cscos 
upon its ceiling, delineating scenes in which the deity for 
which it is called figures. The gi'eat Saloon of Hercules has 
scenes illustrating the deeds of Hercules, delineated upon its 
. broad expanse of ceiling, sixty feet square ; the Hall of Abun- 
dance is illustrated with allegorical figures, and the Saloon of 
Venus is rich with cupids, roses, and the Goddess of Love ; 
then there are Saloons of Mars, of Mercury, of Apollo, of the 
States General, all richly and most gorgeously decorated; 
but the gi'andest of all is the Grand Gallery of Louis XIV., 
the most magnificent hall in the world, and one Avhich ex- 
tracts enthusiasm even from the most taciturn. 

This superb galleiy connects with the Saloon of War and 
Saloon of Peace, and forms with them one grand continuous 
apartment. It is sometimes called the Gallery of MiiTors, 
from the great mirrors that line the wall upon one side. 
Fancy a superb hall, two hundred and thirty feet long, thirty- 
five wide, and forty-five high, with huge arched windows ou 
one side, and magnificent mirrors on the other, with Corin- 
thian columns of red marble at the sides, and the great arched 
ceiling, the 'whole length elegantly painted with allegorical 
representations and tableaux of the battles of France; statues, 
carvings, ornaments, furniture, and decorations appropriate 
filling out the picture, the pei^spective view superb, and ti. e 
whole effect grand and imposing ! 

It was here that Queen Victoria was received on her visit 
to Paris in 1855. Here, where, after the London Times and 
British press had failed to write down the " prisoner of Ham," 
" the nephew of his uncle," " the ex-policeman," after Punch 
had ridiculed in every possible pictorial burlesque and slander 


copies that have been made of them, and the nmneroos occa- 
sions they have done duty in illustrated books. The Napo- 
leon Gallery, a volume of illustrations published by Bohn, of 
London, gives engravings of nearly all these beautiful tab- 
leaux. Here was the Battle of Marengo, Passage, of the 
Alps, Horace Vemct's Battle of Wagram, and Battle of 
Friedland, and his picture of Napoleon addressing the 
Guards before the battle of Jena, Gerai'd's Battle of Auster- 
litz. Battle of Rivoli, — one vivid pictorial scene succeeding 
another, — Eckmuhl, Ratisbon, Essling, Rivoli, &c. This 
Gallery of Battles is also a notable hall, being nearly four 
hundred feet long, forty-two feet wide, and forty .feet in 
height. The roof is vaulted, and lighted by skylights, wliich 
give a good light to the pictures, and the whole effect of thcj 
splendid gallery, which is richly decorated, set forth by orna- 
mental columns, with busts of distinguished generals inter- 
spersed at intervals, is very fine. In niches near the win- 
dows there is a sort of roll of honor — lists of names of 
generals and admirals who have fallen in battle, inscribed 
upon tablets of black marble. I must not forget the Hall of 
the Coronation, which contains. David's great painting of the 
Coronation of Napoleon, for which the artist received the 
sum of one hundred thousand francs. In this hall is also the 
Distribution of the Eagles to the Legions, by the same artist, 
and the Battle of Aboukir. 

Behind the Gallery of Battles extends another gallery, 
entirely devoted to statues and busts of distinguished per- 
bonages, from the year 1500 to 1800. This gallery is over 
three hundred feet in length. But even to attempt anything 
like a description of the numerous galleries, halls, and apait- 
ments in this vast structure, would be futile in the space that 
can be allowed in a tourist's sketches, and those that wo 
omit are nearly as extensive as those already mentioned. 
There is a gallery of the admirals of France — fourteen 
rooms full of their portraits; a galleiy of the kings of 
France — seventy-one portraits — down to Louis Philippe; 
gallery of Louis XIII. ; hall of the imperial family, with por 


traits of the Bonaparte family ; gallery of marine paintings ; 
a gallery of water colora, by French staff officers, of scenes 
in campaigns from 1796 to 1814; Marie Antoinette's private 
apartments, in which some of the furniture used by her still 
remains; the cabinets of porcelains; <;abinets of medals; 
sa]oon of clocks; great library; hall of the king's body 
guards, £c. The celebrated hall known as (Eil de Bceu^ 
from its great oval wdndow at one end, I viewed with some 
interest, as the hall where so many courtiera had fussed, and 
iumed, and waited the king's coming — regular French lobby- 
ists of old times ; and many a shrewd and deep-laid political 
scheme was concocted here. It is a superb saloon, and was 
Louis XVI.'s and Marie Antoinette's public dining-hall. 

All these "galleries,!' it should be borne in mind, are 
really galleries worthy the name — vast in extent, elegant in 
decoration, and rich in pictures, busts, and statues. Then 
the splendid staircases by which some of them are reached 
are wonders of art. The gi'eat Staircase of the Princes is a 
beautiful piece of work, with pillara, sculptured ceiling, bass- 
reliefs, &c., and adorned with marble statues of Bonaparte, 
Louis XIY., and other great men. So also are the Marble 
Stau'case, and the splendid Staircase of the Ambassadors. I 
only mention these, each in themselves a sight to be seen, to 
give the reader some idea of the vastness of this palace, and 
the wealth of ait it contains. 

Think of the luxiuiousness of the monarch who provides 
himself with a fine opera-house or theatre, which he may 
visit at pleasure, without leading his palace ! Yet here it is, 
a handsome theatre, Avith a stage seventy-five feet deep and 
sixty wide, a height of fifty feet, with its auditorium, seventy 
feet from curtain, to boxes, and sixty feet wide. It is ele- 
gantly decorated with Ionic columns, crimson and gold. 
'There are three rows of boxes, with ornamental balustrades, 
a profusion of muTors and chandeliera, and the ceiling ele- 
gantly ornamented. The royal box occupies the centre of 
the middle row of boxes, and is richly decorated. On the 
occasion of the visit of Queen Victoria to Louis NapoleoOi 


this theatre was used as the supper-room, the pit being 
boarded over, and four hundred illustrious guests sat down 
to a splendid banquet. 

Not only have the means of amusement been thus pro- 
vided, but we find in this wonderful palace the royal chapel 
for royal worship of Him before whom all monarchs are as 
dust in the balance — a beautiful interior, one hundred and 
fourteen feet long by sixty wide, with nave, aisles, side gal- 
leries, and Corinthian columns, and its elegant ceiling, which 
is eighty-six feet from the richly-inlaid mosaic pavement, cov- 
ered with handsome paintings of sacred subjects by great 
artists. The high altar is magnificent, the organ one of the 
finest in France, and the side aisles contain seven elegant 
chapels, dedicated to as many saints, their altars rich in 
beautiful marbles, sculptures, bass-reliefs, and pictures — 
among the latter, a Last Supper, by Paul Veronese, the 
whole forming a superb chapel, glowing with beauty and art- 
In this chapel Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette were mar- 
ried in 1770. 

Verily one gets a surfeit of splendor in passing through 
this vast historic pile of buildings. The limbs are weary, 
while the eyes ache from the gazing at pictures, statues, per- 
spectives, and frescos, and it is a relief to go forth into the 
grand park and gardens, where fi-esh wonders await the vis- 
itor. Descending from the broad and spacious terrace, 
adoiTicd by statues and vases, by flights of marble steps, the 
spectator is bewildered by the number and beauty of the 
fountains, statues, &c., that he encounters on every side; but 
the very tciTace itself is a wonder. Here are great bronze 
statues of Apollo, Bacchus, and other heathen gods. Two 
broad squares of water, surrounded by twenty-four splendid 
groups, in bronze, of nymphs and children, are in the midst 
of vast grass plots and walks, and among the statues we 
notice one of Napoleon I. From tMs broad terrace you 
descciid to the gardens below, and other parts of the ground, 
by magnificent flights of broad steps. In the orangery or 
hot-house, orange ti'ces, pomegranates, and a variety of curi- 


oufl plants ai*e kept, many of which are transplanted about 
the grounds during the summer season. One old veteran of 
an orange tree, hooped with iron to preser\'^e it, is sho^m, 
which is said to be over four hundred and thirty years old. 
The guide-books say it was planted by the wife of Charles III., 
King of Navarre, in 1421. Many other old trees of a hun- 
dred years of age are in the gardens. 

One great feature of the gardens at Versailles is the beauti- 
ful fountains. The principal one is that known as the Basin 
of Neptune, which is a huge basin, surrounded by colossal 
figures of Neptime, Araphitrite, nymphs, tritons, and sea 
monsters, that siioutjets-d^eau into it. The Basin of Latona 
is a beautiful affair, consisting of five circular basins, rising 
one above another, surmounted by a group of Latona, Apollo, 
and Diana. All around the basins, upon slabs of marble, are 
huge fi'ogs and tortoises, representing the metamorphosed 
peasants of Libya, who are supplpng the goddess with water 
in liberal streams, which they spout in arching jets towards 
, her. Then there is the gi*eat Basin of Apollo, with the god 
driving a chariot, surrounded by sea-gods and monsters, who 
are all doing spouting duty ; the Basin of Spiing and Sum- 
mer; Basin of the Dragon, where a huge lead representation 
of that monster is solemnly spouting in great streams from 
his tnouth when the water is turned on. The Baths of 
Apollo is a grotto, in which the god is represented served by 
nymphs — seven graceful figures; while near him are the 
horses of the Sun, being watered by Tritons,' all superbly exe- 
cuted in marble. Sheets and jets of water issue fi*om every 
direction in this beautiful gi-otto, and form a lake at the foot 
of the rocks. This grotto is a very elaborate piece of work, 
and is said to have cost a million and a half of francs. 

Besides these beautiful and elaborate fountains are many 
others of lesser note, but still of beautiful design, at different 
points in the gardens and park. Parterres of beautiful 
flowers charm the eye, the elegant groves tempt the pedes- 
trian, and greensward, of thick and velvety texture and em- 
erald hue, stretches itself out like an artificial carpet. Here 


is one that stretches the whole length between two of the 
great fountains, Latona and Apollo, and called the Green 
Carpet — one sheet of vivid green, set out with statues and 
marble vases along the walks that pass beside it; another 
beautiful one, of circular form, is called the Round Green. Here 
are beautiful gravel walks, artificial groves with charming 
alleys, thickets, green banks, and, in fact, a wealth of land- 
scape gardening, in which art is often made to so closely 
imitate nature, that it is difficult to determine where the one 
ceases and the other begins. 

A visit to the Great and Little Trianon is generally the 
wind-up of the visit to the parks of Versailles : the former, 
\o will be recollected, was the villa built in the park by Louis 
XIV. for Madame de Maintenon. It contains many elegant 
apartments. Among those which most attracted our atten- 
tion was the Hall of Malachite, and the Palace Gallery, the 
latter a hall one hundred and sixty feet long, ornamented 
with portraits, costly mosaic tables, and bronzes. Notwith- 
standing the eye has been sated with luxury in the palace, the 
visitor cannot but sec that wealth has been poured out with 
a lavish hand on this villa ; its beautiful saloons, — Saloon of 
Music, Saloon of the Queen, Saloon of Mirrors, — its chapel 
and gardens, are all those befitting a royal palace ; for such 
indeed it was to Louis XIV., XV., and XVI., and even Na- 
poleon, Avho, at different times, made it their residence. 

The Little Trianon, built by Louis XV. for Madame Du 
Barry, is a small, two-story villa, with a handsome garden 
attached, at which I only took a hasty glance, and concluded by 
omitting to inspect the Museum of State Caniages, — where, 
I was told, Bonaparte's, Charles X.'s, and others were kept, — • 
the sedan chair of Marie Antoinette, and various curious 
liamesses. I Avas assured by another tourist, who learned a 
few days after that I had not seen it, that it was the finest 
thing in the whole palace. I have frequently found this to be 
the judgment of many travellers, of objects or points ther/ 
have " done," which you have missed or omitted, and so I en- 
dured the loss of this sight with resignation. 


Bat WO find that an attempt to give anything like a fall de- 
Bcription of all we saw in Paris, — even those leading " lions '' 
that all tourists describe, — would make us taiTy in that gay 
capital too long for the patience of our readers who have fol- 
lowed us " over the ocean " thus far. The lover of travel, of 
variety, of architecture, of fashion, frivolity, or excitement may 
enjoy himself in Paris to the extent of his desire. There is 
plenty to occupy the attention of all who wish to enjoy them- 
selves, in a rational and profitable manner, in the mere seeing 
of sights that every one ought to see. There is the grand 
old cathedral of Notre Dame, famed in history and story, 
which has experienced rough usage at the hands of the fierce 
French mobs of different revolutions, who respect not his- 
torical relics, works of art, or even the sepulchres of the 

The exterior of this magnificent great Gothic structure was 
familiar to me from the many engravings I had seen of it, 
with its two great square towers of over two hundred feet in 
height, with the huge rose window between them of thirty- 
six feet in diameter, and the three beautiful Gothic dooi-s of 
entrance, rich in ornamentation, carvings, and statues of s.aint8. 
The interior has that grand and impressive appearance that 
attaches to all these superb creations of the old cathedral 
builders. The vaiO^^ed arches, rising one above another, over 
a hundred feet ir height, present a fine appearance, and a 
vista of Gothic columns stretches along its length, of three 
hundred and n'notyfeet; at the transept the width is one 
hundred and ^crty-four feet. The three great rose windows, 
which will rot fail to challenge admiration, are wonders in 
their way, and^ with their beautiful stained glass, are coeval 
with the foundation of the cathedral. 

We ascended the tower, and enjoyed the magnificent view 
of Paris frorii its summit, and, more particularly, the course 
of the River Seine and the splendid bridges that span it. Up 
here we saw the huge bells, and walked round amid them, | 
recalling scenes in Victor Hugo'& novel of the Hunchback of 
Notre Dame; these were the huge tocsins that Quasimodoi 



swung, and far down below was the square in wldch L& 
Esmeralda spread her little carpet, and summoned the crowd, 
with tambourine, to witness her dancing goat ; farther away, 
to the right, was the street that Captain Porteous rode from 
at the head of his troop ; here, upon the roo^ sheeted with 
lead^ must have been the place that the mishapen dwarf built 
the fire that turned the dull metal into a molten stream that 
poured destruction upon the heads of the mob that were bat- 
tering the portals below. With what an interest do the poet 
and novelist clothe these old monuments of the past ! Inter- 
twining them with the garlands of their imagination, they 
contend with history in investing them with attractions to 
the tourist. 

High up here, at the edge of the ramparts, are figures of 
demons, carved in stone, looking over the edge, which appear 
quite " little devils " from the pavement, but which are, in 
reality, of colossal size. The pure air of the heavens, as we 
walked around here near the clouds, was of a sudden charged 
with garlic, which nauseous perfume we discovered, on in- 
vestigation, arose from the hut of a custodian and his wife, who 
dwelt up here, hundreds of feet above the city, like birds in 
an eyrie, and defiled the air with their presence. 

One of^the most gorgeous church interiors of Paris is that 
of Sainte Chapelle ; this building, although not very large, is 
a perfect gem of Gothic architecture, and most beautifully and 
perfectly finished in every part ; it is one hundred and twenty 
feet long, forty wide, and has a spire of one hundred and 
forty feet in height. Every square inch of the interior is 
exquisitely painted and gilded in diamonds, lozenges, and 
fleurs-de-lis ; and stars spangle the arched roof^ which is as 
blue as the heavens. The windows are filled with exquisite 
stained glass of the year 1248 — glass which escaped the ruin 
of the revolutions ; and 'the great rose window can only be 
likened to a magnificent flower of more than earthly beauty, 
as the light streams througll" its glorious coloring, where it 
rests above a beautiful Gothic balustrade. 

Leaving the Sainte Chapelle, we passed a few rods distant, 


after turning a comer, the two old coffee-pot-looking towers 
of the bloody Conciergerie, where poor Marie Antoinette 
languished for seventy-six days, before she was led forth to 
execution; here also was where Ravaillac, Robespierre, and 
Charlotte Corday were imprisoned; and the very bloody 
record-book of (he names of those who were ordered to be 
despatched during the revolution, kept by the human butcliers 
who directed affairs, is still preserved, and bIo^^ti to the 

That magnificent Grecian-looking temple, the Madeleine, 
is one of the first public buildings the tourist recognizes in 
Paris. As many Americans are apt to estimate the value of 
things by the money they cost, it may be of interest to state 
that this edifice cost two million six hundred thousand dol- 
lars. It is really a magnificent structure, With its thirty Co- 
rinthian columns, fifteen on each side, and its'noble front, with 
ornamental pediment, its great bronze entrance, doors thirty- 
two feet high, reached by the broad flight of marble steps 
extending across the whole length of the end of the build- 
ing, the dimensions of which are three hundred and twenty- 
eight feet in length by one hundred and thirty-eight in 
breadth. The beautiful Corinthian columns, which, counting 
those at the ends, are fifty-two in number, are each fifty feet 
in height. The broad, open square about the Madeleine 
affords an excellent opportunity of viewing the exterior ; and 
one needs to make two or three detours about the building to 
obtain a correct idea of its magnitude and beauty. The in- 
terior is one spacious hall, the floors and walls all solid mar- 
ble, beautifully decorated, and lighted fi'om the top by domes ; 
all along the sides are chapels, dedicated to different saints, 
and decorated with elegant statues and paintings ; the high 
altar is rich in elegant sculpture, the principal group repre- 
senting, in marble, Mary Magdalene borne into Paradise by 
angels — exquisitely done. The whole effect of this beautiftil 
interior, with its lofty ornamented domes and Corinthian pil- 
lars, the beautiful statuary and bass-relie&, frescoing, and walls ' 
incrusted with rich marbles, is grand beyond description. 


The Chui'oh of St. Genevieve, better known as the Pan- 
theon, is another magnificent structure: three hundred and 
fifty fi^et long and two hundred and sixty wide is this beauti- 
M bmlding, and tLree rows of elegant Corinthian columns 
support its portico. We gazed up at the beautiful pediment, 
over this portico, which is over one hundred and twenty feet 
long and twenty-two feet high, and contains a splendid group 
of statuary in relief, the central figure of which is fifteen feet 
in height ; but above the whole building rises the majestic 
dome, two hundred and sixty-four feet. Inside we ascended 
into this grand and superb cupola, and, after making a por- 
tion of the ascent, paused in a circular gallery to have a view 
of the great painting which adorns the dome, representing 
St. Grenevieve receiving homage from King Clovis. After go- 
ing as far above as possible, w.e descended with a party to the 
vaults below, where we were shown the place, in which the 
bodies of Mirabeau and Marat were deposited, and the tombs 
of Voltaire and Rousseau, which, however, do not contain 
the remains of the two philosophers. We were then escorted 
by the guide, by the dim light of his • lantern, to a certain 
gloomy part of the vaults, where there was a most remark- 
able echo ; a clap of the hand reverberated almost like a peal 
of thunder, and a laugh sounded so like the exultation of some 
gigantic demon who had entrapped his victims here in his 
own tenible caverns, as to make us quite ready to follow 
the guide through the winding passages back to the upper re- 
gions, and welcome the light of day. 

An American thinks his visit to Paris scarcely completed 
unless he has visited the Jardin MabiUe. It has the reputa- 
tion of being a very wicked place, which, in some degree, ac- 
counts for tourists, whose dread of appearances at home re- 
strains them from going to naughty places, having an intense 
desire to visit it ; and it is amusing to see some of these very 
proper persons, who would be shocked at the idea of going 
inside a theatre at home for fear of contamination, who are 
enjoying the spectacle presented here like forbidden fruit, 
quite confused at meeting among the throng their fiiends 

L£8 CHAHPS ELYBiltS. 298 

Sometimes the confusion is mutual, and then explanations 
of both parties exhibit a degree of equivocation that would 
rival a Japanese diplomat. Those, however, who expect to 
see any outrageous display of vice or immodesty will be dis- 
appointed : the garden is under the strict surveillance of the 
police, and there is a far more immodest display by the ladies 
in the boxes of the opera at the Grand Opera in London, than 
by the frail sisterhood at the Jardin. During the travelling 
season one meets plenty of tourists, English and American, 
at Mabille, and hears the English tongue spoken in the garden 
on every side of him. 

Stroll up the beautiM Champs Elys^es of a smnmer's even- 
ing; all along, on either side, the groves, gardens, and grounds 
are biilliant with gas-Jets, colored lights, and Chinese lanterns, 
brilliant cafes^ with chairs and tables in front, where you may 
sit and enjoy a cup of coffee and a cigar, or a glass of wine, 
while you view the never-ending succession of passers by. 
Just off amid the trees are little extemporized theatres, where 
the never-tiring comedy of Punch and Judy is performed to 
admiring crowds, at two sous a head ; little booths, with a 
gambling game, which, translated into English, Ls ^ the d — 
among the tailors,'^ afford an opportunity of indulging in a 
game of chance for a few sous, which game consists in setting 
a brass top spinning in among a curious arrangement of brass 
fixed and movable upright pins upon a board ; the number 
of pins knocked over, and little brass arches passed under, by 
the top, determines the amount of the prize won by the player, 
which can be selected from the knickknacks in the booth 
ticketed with prize cards. 

A friend of mine, a very proper young gentleman, was so 
attracted by the gyrations of the brass top spinning on these 
tables one evening, that he insisted upon stopping and trying 
his hand at the game * he did so, and so expertly that he bore 
off a pair of cheap vases, a china dog, and a papei weight; his 
triumph was somewhat dampened, however, at being reminded 
by a lady friend, whom he met with his hands filled with bis 

1294 CAf£s CHANTANT8. 

treasures I that he had been gambling on Sunday evening. It 
is not at all surprising, however, from the sights and scenes, 
that one should forget the character of the day, there is so 
little to remind him of it in Paris. 

Besides these booths are those for the sale of a variety of 
fanciful articles, illuminated penny peep shows ; and off at 
side streets you are directed, by letters in gas jets, to the Caf^s 
Chantants — enclosed gardens with an illuminated pavilion 
at one end of them, its whole aide open, exposing a stage, 
upon which sit the singers, handsomely dressed, who are to 
appear in the programme. The ^tage is beautifully illumi- 
nated with gas and very handsomely decorated, generally rep- 
resenting the interior of a beautiful drawing-room ; the audi- 
ence sit at tables in the garden immediately before the stage, 
which, from its raised position, affords a good view to all ; 
there is no charge for admission, but each \ isitor orders some- 
thing to the value of from half a fi'anc to a franc and a half 
of the waitera, who are pretty sharp to see that eveiybody 
does order something. The trees are hung with colored 
lights, a good orchestra plays the accompaniment for the 
singers, besides waltzes, quadrilles, and galops, and the' 
Frenchman sits and sips his claret or coffee, and smokes 
his cigar beneath the trees, and has an evening, to him, of 
infinite enjoyment. I saw, among the brilliant gi'oup that 
formed the corps of performere, seated upon the illuminated 
stage at one of these Ca^s Chantants, a plump negro girl, 
whose low-necked and short-sleeved dress revealed the sable 
hue of her skin in striking contrast to her white and gold 
costume. She was evidently a dusky "star." 

But we will continue our walk up the beautifiil Elysian 
Fields; the great, broad carriage-way is thronged with voitui*es, 
with their different colored lights flitting hither and thither 
like elves on a revel: as seen in the distance up the illu- 
minated course they sparkled like a spangled pathway, clear 
away up to the huge dusky Arc d'Etoile, which in the dis- 
tance rises " like an exhalation." The little bowers, nooks, 
chairs, and booths are all crowded; music reaches us from the 

little !^ .?P^I^'og ^Uh ff^ pr^iti^ f 
t1 >.^". ^adie« «.^^. V't^^^^^ 


back, and chasse^ bend and writhe like eels, now stooping 
nearly to the floor, then rising witli a bound into the air like 
a rubber ball : forward to partners, a fellow leans forward his 
head, and feigns to kiss the advancing siren, who, with a 
sudden movement, brings her foot up in the position just oc- 
cupied by his face, which is skilfully dodged by the fellow 
leaping backwards, agile as an ape ; the men toss their arms, 
throw out their feet, describe arcs, cii'cles, and sometimes a 
spry fellow turns a summersault in the dance. The girls 
gather up their long skirts to the knee with their hand, and 
are scarcely less active than their partners ; they bound for- 
ward, now and then kicking their boots, with wliite lacings, 
high into the air, sometimes performing the well-known trick 
of kicking off the hat of a gaping Englishman or American, 
who may be watching the dance. The waltz, polka, and 
galop are performed with a fi'antic fervor that makes even 
the spectator's head swim, and at its close the dancers repair 
to the tables to cool off with iced drinks, or a stroll in the 
garden walks. 

The proprietors of the Jardin Mabille, Closerie des Lilas, 
and similar places, generally have some few female dancers 
of more than usual gymnastic skill, and with some personal 
attraction, whom they employ as regular habitues of the 
gardens as attractions for strangers, more particularly green 
young Englishmen and Americans. This place, however, is 
perfectly safe, being under strict surveillance of the police, 
and there is veiy rarely the least disturbance or rudeness ; 
the police see that the gardens are cleared, and the gas ex- 
tinguished, at midnight. Two nights in the week at the 
Jardin Mabille are fete nights, when a grand display of fire- 
works is added to the other attractions of the place. 

The Closerie des Lilas is a garden not so extensive as 
Mabille, frequented principally by students and their mistres- 
ses — admission one franc, ladies free. Here the dancing is a 
little more demonstrative, and the dresses are cut rather lower 
in the neck ; yet the costume and display of the person are 
modest in comparison with that in the spectacular pieces upon 



the stage. The students go in for a jolly time, and have it, 
if dancing with all their might, waltzing like whirling der- 
vishes, and undulating through the Can-Can with abandon 
indescribable, constitute it. 

Of courae we did not omit the Palace of the Luxembourg, 
with its superb galleiy of modem paintings, among which wo 
noticed Delacroix' pictures of Dante and Virgil, and Massacn? 
of Scio ; Oxen ploughing by Rosa Bonheur, and Hay Harvest 
by the same artist ; Horace Vemet's Meeting of Raphael and 
Michael Angelo, and Muller's Calling the Roll of Victims to 
be guillotined, dming the Reign of Terror. In this palace 
is also the Hall of the Senate, semicircular, about one hundred 
feet in diameter, elegantly decorated with statues, busts, and 
pictures, and the vaulted ceiling adorned with allegorical fres- 
coes. Here is also the Salle du Trone, or Throne Room, a 
magnificent saloon, elegantly fi'escoed, ornamented, and gilded. 
The throne itself is a large chair, elegantly upholstered, 
with the Napoleonic N displayed upon it, upon a raised dais, 
above which was a splendid canopy supported by caryatides. 
The walls of the saloon were adoraed with elegant pictures, 
representing Napoleon at the Invalides, Napoleon I. elected 
emperor, and Napoleon I. receiving the flags taken at Aus- 
terlitz. Other paintings, representing scenes in the emperor's 
life, are in a small apartment adjoining, called the Emperor's 
Cabinet. We then visited here the chamber of Marie do 
Medicis, which contains the arm-chair used at the coronation 
of Napoleon I., and paintings by Rubens. The latter were 
taken down, with some of the beautiful panelling, which is 
rich in exquisite scroll-work, and concealed during the revolu- 
tion of 1789, and replaced again in 1817. \ 

The Garden of Plants, at Paris, is another of those very 
enjoyable places in Europe, in which the visitor luxuriates in 
gratifying his taste for botany, zoology, and mineralogy, and 
natural science. Here in this beautiful garden are spacious 
hot-houses and green-)iouses, with every variety ot rare plants, 
a botanical garden, galleries of botany, zoology, and mineral* 
ogy, and a great amphitheatre and laboratories for lecturesi 


which are free to all who desire to attend, given by sdentifia 
and skilled lecturei-s, from April to October. The amphi- 
theatre for lectures will hold twelve hmidred pei'sons; 
and among the lectures on the list, which is posted up at its 
entrance, and also at the entrance of the gardens, were the 
subjects of chemistry, geology, anatomy, physiology, botany, 
and zoology. Many scientific men of celebrity received their 
education here, and the different museums are rich in rare 
specimens of their departments. The. Zoological Museum 
has a fine collection of stuffed specimens of natural history, 
zoophites, birds, butterflies, large mammiferous animals, &c. 
The Geological Museum is admirably arranged — curious 
specimens from all parts of the world — from mountains, 
waterfalls, volcanoes, mines, coral-reefs, and meteors, L e., 
specimens from the earth below and the heavens above. The 
'Botanical Depaitment, besides its botanical specimens, has a 
museum of woods similar to that at Kew Gardens. A Cabi- 
net of Anatomy contains a collection of skeletons of animals, 
<fcc. The Zoological Garden is the most interesting and most 
frequented part of the grounds. The Hons, tigers, beai^, ele- 
phants, hyenas, and other beasts have spacious enclosures, as 
in the Zoological Gardens at London, though not so well ar- 
ranged, nor is the collection so extensive. The Palais ded 
Singes (palace of monkeys), a circular building provided for 
these agile acrobats, is a most attractive resoii;, and always 
thronged with spectators. Paiterres of flowers, handsome 
shade trees, shrubs, and ciuious plants adorn the gi*ounds and 
border the winding walks and paths ; and the visitor cannot 
help being impressed that almost everything connected witli 
natural science is represented here in this grand garden and 
museum — plants, animals, fossils, minerals, curious collec- 
tions, and library. A single visit scarcely suffices to view the 
menagerie, and many days would be required to examine the 
whole collection in different departments. 

St. Cloud I Even those who travel with a valet de place^ 
and cannot understand a word of French, seem to learn the 
pronunciation of this name, and to air their ^^ song klew^^ with 


much satisfaction. Through the splendid apartments of this 
palace — since our visit, alas I destroyed by the invading Prus- 
sians — we strolled of a Sunday afternoon. There was the 
Saloon of Mars, Saloon of Diana, rich in magnificent fresco- 
ing, representing the gods and goddesses of heathen mythol- 
ogy upon the lofty ceilings ; the Gallery of Apollo, a vast and 
magnificently-decorated apartment, ceiling painted by Mi- 
giiard, with scenes in the life of Apollo, walls beautifully gilt 
and frescoed, hung with rare paintings, furnished with cabinets 
of elegant Sevres porcelain, rich and curious funiitui-e, and 
costly brqnzes. It was here, in this apaitment, that Prince 
Napoleon, son of Jerome, was baptized by Pope Pius VII., in 
1805, and here the marriage of Napoleon I. and Maria Louisa 
was celebrated in 1810. Then we go on through the usual 
routine of grand apartments — Saloons of Minerva, Mercmy, 
Aurora, Venus, <fcc. — rich in magnificent paintings, wondi'ous 
tapestry, elegant carving, and splendid decorations. Here 
are a suit of rooms that have been occupied by Marie Antoi- 
nette, the Empress Josephine, Marie Louise, Louis Philippe, 
and also by Louis Napoleon. Historical memories come 
thickly into the mind on visiting these places, and throw an 
additional charm about them. St. Cloud often figui'es in the 
history of the great Napoleon. That great soldier and his 
Guard, Cromwell-like, dispersed the Council of Five Hundred 
that held their sessions here in 1799, and was soon after made 
first consul. Farther back in history, here the monk assas- 
sinated Henry III., and it was here Louis XIV. and Louis 
XVI. often sojourned. 

The Cascade at St. Cloud is the object that figures most 
frequently in illustrated books and pictures, and the leading 
attraction inquired for. It is in the grand parkj and consists 
of a series of vast steps, at the top of which are huge foun- 
tains, which send the water down in great sheets, forming a 
succession of waterfalls, the sides of the steps ornamented 
with innumerable vases and shell-work^ The water, after 
passing these steps, reaches a great semicircular basin, sur- 
rounded by jeta cPeau^ and fix)m thence falls over other grand 

800 8Uin>AY AliirSSMENTS. 

steps into a grand canal, two hundred and sixty feet long and 
ninety wide ; dolphins spouting into it, fountains running over 
from vases, and spouting upright from the basin itself, and 
one huge waterspout near by sending up its aqueous shaft 
one himdred and forty feet into the air, the whole forming a 
sparkling spectacle in the sunlight of a summer afternoon. 

Every alternate Sunday in summer is a fete day here ; and 
on one of these occasions we saw fountains playing, merry- 
go-round horses, with children upon the horses, ten-pin alleys, 
in which the piizes were dolls, china ware, and macaroon 
cakes. Here was a figure of an open-mouthed giant, into 
which the visitor was invited to pitch three wooden balls for 
two sous ; prizes, three ginger-snaps in case of success. The 
d — ^1 among the tailors was in brisk operation ; a loud-voiced 
Frenchman invited spectators to throw leathern balls at some 
grotesque dolls that he had in a row astride of a cord, a sou 
only for three shots ; and prizes for knocking off the dolls, 
which were dressed to represent obnoxious personages, and 
duly labelled, were paid in pretty artificial flowers made of 
paper. Fortune-wheels could be whii'led at half a franc a 
turn, the gifts on which that halted beneath the rod of the 
figure of the enchanter that stood above them belonged to 
the whirler, I heard a vigorous crowing, succeeded by a fel- 
low shouting, ^Coq de village^ an sou! Coq de village^ un 
sou, messieurs/^ He had a huge basket filled with little 
shells, which were so prepared that, when blown upon, they 
gave a clever imitation of chanticleer. Fandangos carried 
their laughing groups up into the air and down again; in- 
clined planes, with self-running cars, gave curious rides ; and 
in one part of the grounds were shown booths of the old 
English fair kind. Before one, on a platform, a clown danced, 
and invited the public to enter, to the music of bass drum and 
horn; ponies, monkeys, trained dogs, and other performers 
were paraded, as an indication of what might be seen within ; 
pictorial representations of giants, fat women, and dwarfs 
were in front of others ; a sword-swallower took a mouthftil 
or two by way of illustrating the appetite he would display 

SHOPS nr PABis. 801 

for three sous ; and a red-hot kon taster, in suit of dirty red 
and white muslin, and gold spangles, passed a heated bar 
dangerously near his tongue, intimating that those who 
desired could, by the investment of a few coppers, have the 
rare privilege of witnessing his repast of red-hot iron. 
These, and scores of other cheap amusements, invited the 
attention of the thousands that thronged the park on that 
pleasant Sunday afternoon ; and among all the throng, which 
was composed principally of the common people, we saw not 
a single case of intoxication, and the trim-dressed officers of 
police, in dress coats, cocked hats, and swords, who sauntered 
here and there, had little to do, except, when a throng at 
some point became too dense, to open a passage, or cause 
some of the loungers to move on a little. 

The traveller who visits the splendid retail establishments 
in the Rue de la Paix or on the Boulevards, unattended, and 
purchases what suits his fancy, paying the price that the very 
supple and crin^ug salesmen choose to charge, or even goes 
into those magasins in which a conspicuously-displayed sign 
announces the prixJiQcej will, after a little experience, become 
perfectly amazed at the elasticity of French conscience, not 
to say the skill and brazen effrontery of French swindling. 

In four fifths of these great retail stores, the discovery that 
the purchaser is an American or an Fnglishman, and a stran- 
ger, is a signal for increasing the regular price of every arti- 
cle he dcsLies to purchase ; if he betrays his ignorance of the 
usual i*ate, palming off an inferior quality of goods, and ob- 
taining an advantage in every possible way, besides the legit- 
imate profit. It never seems to enter the heads of these 
smirking, supple-backed swindlers, that a reputation for hon- 
esty and fair dealing is worth anything at all to their estab- 
lishments. Possibly they ai^e that, as Paris is headquarters 
for shopping, buyers will come, willy-nilly ; or it may be that 
deception is so much a part of the Frenchman's nature, that 
it is a moral impossibility for him to get along without a 
certain amount of it 

The 2^rixjiaie J put up to indicate that the establishment has 


a fixed price, from which there is no abatement, after the 
style of the " one price " stores in America, very often has 
but little significance. A fnend with whom I waa shopping 
upon one occasion told the shop-keeper, whom he had offered 
fifteen or twenty per cent, less than his charge, and who 
pointed, with an ex{>ressive shrug, to the placard, that he was 
perfectly aware the price was fixed, as it generally was 
"fixed" all over Paris for every new customer. Monsieur 
was so charme with his repartee, that he obtained the arti- 
cle at the price he offered. 

One frequently sees costly articles, or some that have been 
very slightly worn, displayed in a shop window, ticketed at a 
low price, and marked X' Occasion^ to signify that it is not a 
part of the regular stock, but has been left there for sale — 
is an " opportunity;" or intimating, perhaps, that it is sold by 
some needy party, who is anxious to raise the ready cash. 
Some of these opportunities are bargains, but the buyer must 
be on his guard that the " occasion " is not one that has been 
specially prepared to entrap the purchaser into taking a dam- 
aged article of high cost at a price beyond its real value. 

Although the French shop-keeper may use every artifice to 
make the buyer pay an exorbitant rate for his goods, the law 
is very stringent in certain branches of trade, and prevents 
one species of barefaced cheating that is continually prac- 
tised in New York, and has been for years, with no indica- 
tions that it will ever be abolished. 

In Paris — at least on the Boulevards and great retail 
marts — there are no mock auction shops, gift enterprise 
swindlers, bogus ticket agencies, or similar traps for the un- 
wary, which disgrace New York. Government makes quick 
work of any abuse of this kind, and the police aboHsh it and 
the proprietor so completely, that few dare try thQ experi- 
ment. Neither dare dealers in galvanized watches or imitar 
tion jewelry sell it for gold. They are compelled to display 
the word "imitation" conspicuously upon their shop front 
and window; and really imitation jew^W is s^ch an impor- 
tant article of trade, that as much skiQ -g e^^^ted upon it 


Mt^ >^B ^^'HtL^tteJ^^atT^^ r.'nipe'-l«l rule, after alU 
Do?- "^t s!..''W *« e« J^^« to O^ ^fconfidonce that the law 


sought in Tain in Paris for the thick, yellow, and handsomely- 
stitched gloves he had seen in Regent Street, London, known 
as French dog-skin. Nothing of the kind could be found. 
They were made exclusively for the Englisli market. 

But it really seems as if almost everything ever heard or 
thought of could be bought in the French capital, and made 
in any style, prepared in any form, and furnished with mar- 
vellous speed. There is one characteristic of the European 
shopmen, which I have before referred to, which is in agree- 
able contrast with many American dealers ; and that is, their 
willingness to make or alter an article to the purchaser's 
taste ; to sell you what you want, and not dispute, and try to 
force an article upon you which they argue you ought to 
have, instead of the one you call for. If a lady liked the 
sleeves of one cloak, and the body of another, she is informed 
that the change of sleeves shall instantly be made from one 
to the other. Does a gentleman order a pair of boots with 
twisted toes, the boot-maker only says, " Certainement^ mon- 
sieur^"* and takes his measure. The glover will give you any 
hue, in or out of the fashion, stitched with any colored silk, 
and gratify any erratic taste, without question, at twenty-four 
houra' notice. The ribbon-scUer will show you an innumera- 
ble variety of gradations of the same hue, will match any- 
thing, and shows a skill in endeavoring to suit you exactly. 
In fact, we presume that the foreign shopman accepts the 
situation, and is striving to be more a shopman than ever, 
instead of — as is too often the case in our own country — 
acting as though he merely held the position pro tempore^ 
and was conferring an honor upon the purchaser by serv- 
ing him. 

Purchases may be made down to infinitesimal quantities, 
especially of articles of daily consumption; and where so 
many are making a grand display upon a small capital, as in 
Paris, it is necessary that every convenience should be 
afforded ; and it is. Living in apartments, one may obtain 
everything from the magasins within a stone's throw. He 
may order turkey and truifies, and a grand dinner, w'th 


entries, which will be furnished him at his lodging^, at any 
hour, from the neighboring restaurant, with dishes, table fur- 
niture, and servant ; or he may order the leg of a fowl, one 
pickle, and two sous' worth of salt and pepper. He can caQ 
in a porter, with a back-load of wood for a fire, or buy three 
or four sous' worth of fagots. But your true Frenchman, of 
limited means, utilizes everything. He argues, and very cor- 
rectly, that all he pays for belongs to him. So at the cafS 
you will see him carefully wrap the two or three lumps of 
sugar that remain, of those furnished him for his coffee, in a 
paper, and carry them away. They save the expense of the 
article for the morning cup at his lodgings. So if a cake or 
two, or biscuit, remain, he appropriates them as his right; 
and I have even seen one who went so far as to pocket two 
or three little wax matches that were brought to him with a 
cigar. Much has been said of how cheaply one can live in 
Paris. This would apply, with equal truthiulness, to many 
of our own cities, if people would live in the same way, and 
practise the same economy. This, however, is repugnant to 
the American, and, in some respects, mistaken idea of lib- 

The absolute, unnecessary waste in an American gentle* 
man's kitchen would support two French families comfortably. 
In some it already supports three or four Irish ones. 

There are three ways of going shopping in Paris. The 
first is to start out by yourself, and seek out stores which 
may have the goods that you desire to purchase ; the sec- 
ond, to avail yourself of the services of a valet de piace^ or 
courier; and the third, to employ the services of one of 
your banker's clorks, who is an expert, or those of a commis- 
sion merchant. 

We have experimented in all three methods. In the first, you 
are sure to pay the extreme retaU price. In the second, you 
are very likely to do the same, the only difference being that 
the courier gets a handsome doticeur ^om the shop-keeper 
for introducing you, or, in other words, shares with him the 
extia amount of which you have been plundered. The latt^ 



method is by far the best and most satisfactory to strangem 
unfamiliar with Paris and French customs. 

Stereoscopic views of Paris, which we were charged one 
franc apiece for on the Boulevards, were purchased of the 
manufecturcr in his garret at three francs a dozen. Speo- 
taclos which cost five dollars a pair in Boston, and eight 
francs on the Boulevards, we bought for three francs a pair 
of the wholesale dealer. Gloves are sold at ail sorts of 
prices, and are of all sorts of qualities, and the makers will 
make to measure any pattern or style to suit any sort of 
fancy. Jewelry we were taken to see in the quarter where 
it was made — up stairs, in back rooms, often in the same 
building where the artisan lived, where, there being no plate 
glass, grand store, and heavy expenses to pay, certain small 
articles of bijouterie could be purchased at a very low figure ; 
rich jewelry, diamonds, and precious stones were sold in 
quiet, massive rooms, up stairs, in buildings approached 
through a court-yard. 

For diamonds, you may be taken up stairs to a small, care- 
fully guarded inner room, dimly lighted, in which a black- 
velvet-covered table or counter, and two or three leather- 
covered chairs, give a decidedly funereal aspect to the place. 
An old, bent man, whose hooked nose and glittering eyes be- 
token him a Hebrew, waits upon your conductor, whom he 
greets as an old acquaintance. He adjusts the window 
shade so that the light falls directly upon the black counter 
(which is strikingly suggestive of being prepared to receive 
a coffin), or else pulls down the window-shade, and turns up 
the gas-light directly above the black pedestal, and then, from 
some inner safe or strong box, produces little packages of 
tissue paper, from which he displays the flashing gems upon 
the black velvet, shrewdly watching the effect, and the pur- 
chaser's skill and judgment, and keeping back the most 
desirable «tones until the last. 

Ladies' ready-made clothing may be bought in Paris as 
veadily as gentlemen's can be in New York or Boston — gar- 
ments of great elegance, and of the most fashionable make 

808 BABQAiars. 

drai)erie8 that all women covet. In a room of one of theoe 
great shawl warehouses we saw retail dealers selecting and 
purchasing their supplies. Salesmen were supplied by asaist- 
ants with different styles from the shelves, which ^were dis- 
played before the buyer upon a lay figure; and xipcm his 
displeasure or dedsion, it was immediately cast aside upon 
the floor, to be refolded and replaced by other assistants* 
which was so much more labor, however, than unfoldino' that 
lh8 floor was heaped with the rich merchandise. This so 
excited an American visitor, that she could not help exclaim- 
ing, ** Only think of it I Must it not be nice Xo stand knee- 
deep in Cashmere shawls ? " 

Many purchasers, who seek low prices and fair dealings. 
visit the establishment known as the ^Bon Jifarche^ rath 
out of the fashionable quarter of the city, and ** the oth 
side of thi\ Seine." The proprietor of this place huys in h' 
lots, and sells on the quick-sales-and-smaU-profits princi 1 • 
and his immense warehouse, which is filled with every an ' 
of dry goods, haberdashery, ribbons, clothing, gloves. t ' 
furnishing goods, and almost everything except grocerie^^wid 
medicines, is crammed with purchasers every dav xah 
voiturea line the streets in the immediate vicinity At fK' 
place bargains are often obtained in articles of ladi ' A 
which may be a month past the season, and which ar** l ^ 
out at a low figure, to make room for the latest st 1 • ^ 

American ladies, who sometimes purchase \n ♦i.* * ^'^ 

• 1 • *!. • X . ^ ^»^*s manner, 

rejoice, on arrival m their own c<vmtry, ^th that joy hi h 

woman only knows when she finds she haH o"k^ ^ K ^~^^^ 
4.- 1 / r ^ v ;i* *i. aoout the first 

article out of a new fashion, and that, too ho K 

bargain. ' © at a 

It is a good plan for American tourists, who havo anv 
amount of purchases to make, to take a carriaffe h tii \ 
and the bsmker's clerk Or commission mf^r/^i^o^* ^ ^ nour, 

*v A 1 "*®rcliant whom they 

engage to accompany them, and make a day of it It "ll 
be found an economy of time, and to involve fer 1p ' *^ 

and fatigue, than to attempt walking, or truatiTi ♦ ^^^**i^» 
find the articles desired. An American, on Ws ^m - ^ 

time f«t****^ time th *» 

**"«« tourist ^^^'»^, 

.©fit exprea^ . T^f for -^tr^^^ « -* -X^ 

some .? ^d I ^ ^*^^€tii ^ ^^eh /^ 1 

P'ononnceT . ^°' **^« bT^^ «*artea for a^'*'^ A^"^" 

810 A DOQ SHOW. 

We rattled through the streets of Brussels at early moni- 
ing, and, passing the great market square, saw a curious 
sight in the side streets contiguous, in the numerous dog- 
teams that the country people bring their produce to market 
with. Old dog Tray is pretty thoroughly utilized here ; for 
while the market square was a Babel of voices, fiom bare- 
headed and quaint-headdresied women, and curious-jacketed 
and breeched peasants, ananging their greens, fruit, and 
vegetables, and clamoring with early purchasers, their teams, 
which filled the side streets, were taking a rest after their 
early journey from the country. There were stout mastifis 
in little carts, harnessed complete, like horses, except blinders ; 
some rough fellows, of the " big yellow-dog *' breed, tandem ; 
poor little curs, two abreast; small dogs, big dogs, smart 
dogs, and cm* dogs, each attached to a miniature cart that 
would hold from two pecks to three bushels, according to the 
strength of the team ; and they were standing, sitting, and 
lying in all the varieties of dog attitude — certainly a most 
comical sight. Some time afterwards, while travelling in the 
country, I met a fellow riding in one of these little wagons, 
drawn by two large dogs at quite a tolerable trot (dog trot), 
although they are generally used only to draw light burdens, 
to save the peasants' shoulders the load. 

From our windows at the Hotel de FEurope we look out 
upon the Place Royale, in which stands the handsome eques- 
trian statue, in bronze, of that stout crusader, Godfrey de 
Bouillon, who, with the banner of the cross in one hand, and 
falchion aloft in the other, is, as he might have rode at 
the siege of Jerusalem, or at the battle of Ascalon, a spirited 
aiid martial figure, and familiar enough to us, from its repro- 
duction in little, for mantel clocks. We visited the celebrated 
Hotel de YiUe, a magnificent old Gothic edifice, all pointa 
and sculptures, and its central tower shooting up three hun- 
dred arid sixty-four feet in height. In fi'ont of it ai'e two 
finely executed statues of Counts Egmont' and Horn, the 
Duke of Alva's victims, who perished here. A short die- 
tance from here is a little statue known as the Manikin, a 


i08t aatoDiahing practical jokes ■vvi+'K v. 

an possibly be imagined. Soihq -wr* i "*^^a>i a^vd 

lectator, although prepared for e„ ^^^*^lutelv i * 

laughter as a weU-told Btoiy ; a^^"®^»> and e .^^^ 
>osit« effect, and make hb very ^^- "^^llera 'Would^*^*^ "" 
error. One of the latter was 1,1^^^ *^ *^moat etaTirl 
c mother, in a half-darkened, r^-^ "^^icli rertj- * 

lildren with a butcher knife, a^^**^' "^uttinj, ^®^'»t 

pot boiling upon the fire. 0?>j,. ^*^*^*'***g tb*^ **^' 
i di-eadful ecene by a sort of .. "^P^^^tntor i ''®*'* 

that the wild woman thinks >j *^*"^tle fi^g' ^"o i^ i 
, from the appearance of the ^*^«lf aecu ^^^^^^-^^^^l, 
i-en key-hole of which she Ha^^^'^'^entJ^ **^Oiu qI 
e himself ia getting a view ft-^^ '^'^i-ofully ^^*^ ^'^^^ 
igh the subject is anything -l ^'*- ^n UhqiT^ ^^^'Cred 
beating of the heart, the paii^^^ u pWasa^?'^^'^ *^« 
■ shudder with which the sii-j. ^*^^met, ^^e, y^ 

e spectacle, is a tribute to tt^^^^-^^Or V.-j^J*^*^> ^Ud i 
Bsels is divided into two -^^ ^'^ist'a '^*"'*-Wa ft.Q. 

the latter is crowded, and ^^r*'*> *-t '^^'^^^Woxig » 

and laboring classes, and ^ ^^ite^ ^Pper a^^ 
hioned Dutch-looking buil^ -'^^^taina Y».^*^'***^^PaHv T 
per part of the city, the aV*^ i ^« of *^^^y of the 
incIarge,open squai-ea^^-^^^ 'af thl .^ ^^nu,^ * 
, of the latter we attea^e^^ ^'-''Oet^ '"'^^^r cK ^' 
iven by the orchestra of ^, ^ ^-^ry fi ^^^^^^e Jl^^^' 
nts! and we found that ^^ O *^ »nstv *' 

untry where good mxi^j^ ^>^^ ^er''* ^Pera '*"^''"*^* 
1 at a very reasonable ^ ^^aa .^ f *iow o-^tTT^ ^^Tc 
ntog,. t>n«^, ^dj^e. „^«tt,„g t„ 

most interesting chi,-. , '*" tho ^ "* <=ou' 

aral of St. Gndule, fovj '^ l^ "'"St agr 

f which are its magnyj ^^^J^ . '^^sela ■ 
.te affiiir, "preseatl^ «»>tl "" ^flO th " """ 8p 
s miracles and lainta, ^ tij Pa»>t<jd -,; P'ilKaD, 
worltofthecarver'a j/^"" 5^»i^ "*«t 1, V^ **'^0^8 
e eipuhiion of Adam _^'*^- Vl '■»>a ,„.,.^Sttteni. '.r" 

- garde, 

aMeiidatpaTvmg,^«^'h<=^,,^^^ been c 

is, if possible to Te£ra.\n j ^^a, iiicieed ground ; ' « that 

gentlemen at some period ^^ theu- j. ' ^ ^ young ladies and 

magnificent romaunt of Childe Haro/J^^ ^^^^ ^^^ *^^ P^®*'® 
closed the injunction was ^^S^Ufica^. ^' ^^® qualification which 
any spark of imagination or roruai^ * •^^^. anybody that has 
frain, as scene after scene, which th ^^ ^° j^® composition re- 
have made familiar in his miu^ ^ P<^et's glorious numbers 
his sight ? We visit Brussels ' 5r^ 'l^'^*^ ^^^^Jf in reality to 
Waterloo ; and as ^«ve stand in the ^^ ^^ see the field of 
capital, we rememt^^r " the souncl ^^^^ ®^^are of Belgium's 
wonder how the st^^eets looked ^rh T^^*^ ^^^ ^S^^" ^""^ 
huirying to and fr^» and we pict ^^ "^^^*^ and there was 
moon poured do^» ^er sUver Unr^?"^ *"" ^Urselves, as the 
flashed her beanas upon -the y^^^^ ^ ^^ stood t^^^^ ^^ 
structures, the sudaen alar^ ^^<>J^« m the g^eat Gothic 

o'er fair women and brave me^j „ 7 ^ J^^ight the ] alAPS shone 

^> and liiMir 1-^*^ 

The mustering sqy. . „ ,. 

Went pouring tot^^/'>'>, and the clatL''^*''' 

and it all came bacK to jjj » 

extracts from Byron in m^,. *^Ow T v j . t i. 

and sometimes wondered''^ ^atl f ^"'^ '"^^'^ a W' T 
^iere Bonaparte made h^ ,^ t «? *" ^' '"^^^^^ oxJ^^'T^^, 
5"es, w^e sAouId feel no^ ^"^^t rZ '^^^^ ever visit that field 

proachedit "Stop! f • *^0 ^'**^'i struggle for ^he <""P"*' 

^^ «o I stood musL> thy .''•^^ds of th? nttaa ^« «?" 

"SJrP^'^^^ *o-«^o^oV ,. ^^^«<J. and, touching i^ ^=**' 

^««re* ^^ ^•>"'^" /"^e to v; . 

^-QgUsh coach and si 


English, who have bullete, buttons, and other relics said to 
have been picked up on the field, but which a waggish £ng< 
lishman informed us were manufactured at a factory near by 
to supply the demand. The guides, old and young, adapt 
their sympathies to those of customers; thus, if they be Eng- 
lish, it is, — 

" Here is where the brave Wellington stood ; there is where 
toe beat back the Old Guard." 

Or, if they be French or Americans, — 

" There is where the great Napoleon directed the battle. 
The Impeiial Guard beat all before them to this point," Ac. 

The field is an open, undulating plain, intersected by two 
or three broad roads ; monuments rise here and there, and 
conspicuous on the field, marking the thickest of the fight, 
rises the huge pyramidal earth-mound \nth the Belgian lion 
upon its summit. 

We stroll from point to point noted in the terrible strug- 
gle. Here is one that every one pauses at longest ; it is a long, 
low ridge, where the guards lay that rose at Wellington's 
command, and poured their terrible tempest of lead into the 
bosoms of the Old Guard. We walk over the track of that 
devoted band of brave men, who marched over it with their 
whole front ranks melting before the terrific fire of the En^ 
lish artillery like frost-work before the sun, grimly closing up 
and marching sternly on, receiving the fire of a battery in 
their bosoms, and then marching right on over gunners, guns, 
and all, like a prairie fire sweeping all before it — Ney, the 
bravest of the brave, four horses shot under him, his coat 
pierced with balls, on foot at their head, waving his sword on 
high, and encouraging them on, till they reach this spot, where 
the last terrible tempest beats them back, annihilated. Here, 
where so many went down in death, — 

<* Rider and horse, friend, foe, in one red barial blent,*' — 

now waved the tall yellow grain, and the red poppies that 
bloomed among it reminded us of the crimson tide that must 
have reddened the turf when it shook beneath the thunder 
of that terrible charge. 


columns of Blucher emerge ; we pluck a li'C^^ i^ 

goumoDt's garden, and a foil and nearly S^F%^^^^^ io Hon* 

grain from the spot where the Imperial €3''^^h^ '^'^^^ ^^ 

back by their English adversaries, .pay our S^ifj^ T^ ^^^^^ 

each, and once more are bowling along baclc t^o ^ f ^^^ 

Near the field is a sort of museum of relics l-^.,^ . 

•'^Gpt by a niece 

of Sergeant Major Cotton, who was in the hattle, which 
tains many interesting and well-attested relics found nno 
the field years ago. There are rusty swords, that Bashed in 
the June sunset of that terrible day, bayonets, uniform jack- 
ets and hats, buttons, cannon shot, and other field spoil and 
withal books and photographs, which latter articles the vol- 
uble old lady in charge was anxious to dispose of. 

Just off the field, — at the village of Waterloo, I think, 

we halt at the house in which Wellington wrote his despatch 
announcing the victory. Here is preserved, under a glass case, 
the pencil with which he wrote that document. The boot of 
the Marquis of Anglesea, who suffered amputation of his leg 
here, is also preserved in like manner ; and in the garden is a 
little monument erected over his grace's limb, which is said 
to be buried there. 

Did we buy lace in Brussels ? Tes. 

And the great lace establishments there ? 

Well, there are few, if any, large lace shops for the sale of 
the article. Those are all in Paris, which is the great market 
for it. Then, it will be remembered that " Brussels lace " is not 
a very rare kind, and also that lace is an article of merchan* 
disc that is not bulky, and occupies but very little space. In 
many of the old cities on the continent, shopkeepers do not 
believe in vast, splendid, and elegantly-decorated stores, as 
we do in America, especially those who have a reputation in 
specialties which causes purchasers to seek them out. 

Some of the most celebrated lace manufacturers in Brus- 
sels occupied buildings looking, for all the world, like a good 
old-fashioned Philadelphia mansion, with its broad steps and 
substantial front door, the latter having a large silver plate 
with the owner's name inscribed thereon. A good sped- 

^^0 AHTWBK^' 

'' ^iglity do\lax8 for that mesB of spider^s ^W^ob / " exclaimed 
^onsieur, in English, to his companion.- ** Eighty doUarel 

^^ price U magnmque." 
a "® ^a varee sheep for Bush derUeOesr says the old lady, in 
Bt^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ *^ monsieur's conftision at her under- 

^ ^ the English tongue ; and tlie exhibition went on. 
<5are ^t^ ^"^^^^ ^e sacrificed at tliat black velvet altar I do not 
Am ' ^'^^Btfon; but, at any rate, iv^e foim<I on reaching 
enca that the prices paid, compared with those asked at 
^e, ta^^e « var-ee sheep for snsh denteUear 
Antwerp I We must make a brief pause at this oJd com- 
mercial citj on the Scheldt ; and as we ride througrh ii^ streets, 
tve see the gaaixit, solid, substantial buildings of olden time&^ 
their curious ^i^jrchitecture giving a sort of Dutch artistic 9^ 
to the scene, slic%.^ reminding one of old paintings and theatii- 
cal scenery. 0»e evidence of the commercial importance of 
Antwerp is s^^^ "^ ^^® splendid docks; these compiise the 
d dks buxl*^ ^y Bonaparte when he made the port one of 
1 arsexx^^s, which are splendid specimens of masoniy, 

^^ '^^^l heit^S *^® ^^^^ "^ thickness; then the Belgian gov- 

^e ^^^^^^^ ^recently completed three new docks, which, in 

ernment ^^^^ix t^e old ones, embrace an area of over my 

connection ^^^ ^^ visited several of the dock-yards here, 

acres of ^^^^^xiished at the vast heaps of merchandise they 

and w^ere a ^^^ further improvements that are being made 

contamed. xetely refute the assertion that aU the commer- 

geem to ^^^^ ^f Antwerp has departed. Here, for instance, 

""' e^tw^n^^ docks in progress for timber and petroleum 

X^TLivf^lxr .fcvhich enclose seventeen acres of water, and here 

^e saw nt^^^^^y ^^Tv ""^ ^P^^^^id timber for a navy. I 

Hras actually ^^ff^Tl T,^^"" ^^^P« of «^^'7 ^* ^^ ^^^^ 

from nil pstirt.0 ^^J^^ w ^^^' *^^^ ^"^^ P"^®^ ""^ ^^""^ ^^"® ^® 

American f^^^^^ ^" , , ^® beaped up and stored in warehouses 

the size of » ^^*^ld fi ^"^^^^"^^K the idea of a tremendous 

mxxminsLtiox^ ^^ as-ai^ ^'^^ means get at it, which, how. 

ever, is ^x:*^^^^ gamst very strictly by dock-guards a^d 



Then there are three 
\vhich is the largest in 
long, and capable of holdin.: 
sand tons register each, 
every description, and for tlx< 
dise, are such as cannot fail 
American merchant^ and 
may have similar 
this country. There wero 
blocks vis-a-viSy with a gl: 
space, and a double rail 
opportunity of loading, 
in all weathers, while tlxi 
directly opposite the city, 
ty-two feet of water to 

The magnificent cathedx-sil. 
iilmost everybody who 
shops ; and we climbed, 
bells, that make the very- 
leaving the ladies, our 
onward and upward, till, 
the lace-work of the spiro, 
in the air, far above tlxe 
though safely enclosed, 
so frequent that our 
however deeply it migjl^'ti 
though our grasp at^ 

most tenacious chax , v^- v* 

spire of about four K^r^dx-eA f€^oti Yugti 
read about than pra.o^xsc5 A. 

Inside the cathoaral. wc. «^w XCu^^ 
Elevation and the T>€3SO.€5n-fc *^^^^^i , 

uresare given witl^ ^^^fV^ -wrl-tU pity 

to make the speolia'^^^"^ **^ 

The interior of 
ing; but I have 
adjectives in a< 

injsic ufj- 

a in the attempt to ^ve anything more than tb^ 
^liich indicate its vast ex.t.eT\ti, Avlxi.<3fi are S^e A»«^ 
„ and two \iuTidred ana. fifty -wiae, lo. f*^^^L-^_ 

j^l is an iron canopy, or speclznea o-« Vto-o- ^^**rv» 
ehouldcall it; but it is of ^.e9'ot££^Ae '^«^» *"** "^ 
a^a skilful band of Quentin 2ki:a.ts\rs — 
l,arcb of St. Jacques, Mrith its splei^=»*^'^ interior, 
^ifol carved marble and balustrades, ^® ^**^*^ 
^ Ilabens, wbo is buried here, and sa^**^ many more 
^^es. among tbem bis Holy Family. '^^^ bouse 

jied is "^ * street named after bim, an^ ^ statue of 
^^cea tlie "^lace Verte. 

ro rcjoic®^ m good musical entertainr***"*®- ^^« 
jmioeot and aristocratic of tbe musical iSCxaeWea \a 
wn as *c "Royal Society of Harmony of .^J^^'^^^T*" 
^ a beautiful garden, or park, at wbiclk tlx^^"^ ont-of- 
,nceTt8 are giveti during the summer season ^X3> ^one 
aibersof tbe society are admitted to tbese ^i^ntertain- 
except visiting friends from otber cities, and -tilien onl^ 
roval of tbe committee of managers. 

garden is c^te extensive, and is beautifull^r laid out 
(Talks beneath sbady groves, rustic bridges over ^oxiAa 
;reams, gorgeous plats, and parterres of flowers. txv t.\i« 
s of the groimds rises an ornamental covered st^^"^ ^"^ 
rchestra-, and round about, beneath the shade t^T^^^, sit 
of tbe visitors wbo are not strolling about, eatir*.^ ices, 
ing light winp or \>eer, and indulging in pipes and. ^i&ara. 
ndsome paviUon affords accommodation in case o:f bad 
her, and the expenses are defrayed by assessments -upon 
aembcrs ot tbe society. 
^er f ^!^g t^e ^ondon Zoological Garden, others ^eem 

^'"t^eloJ^ ^""^ ^^'^^ ^ Antwerp is nearest the Ut^ <ion 
m the excellence of its arraneement and manageK*-^***. 
ivlbave since viRi*«j = ^.Txangeiu^ ^ i ^ji-nd 

'Lteresting. ^"^^^^^^ The collecUon is quite laige, ^^"^ 

«ious ecka ^e bave ever 8een,th6 horses app^^^^^y 



^^fd U8 • p ^' ^ *®y <^ ca^ liere, the driver of which 
^® '*mou^ ^rench, which really Bounded almost natural after 

^^^ the ^^^^"^ German we had experienced, 
^^arda X>rJ^^^^^ bridge that spans the Rhine, we rode 
^^^^ the da^i^^^ ^^^^® lighted windows were reflected 
^«Pitab/e ur^ lowing stream ; and we were soon withii 

»''*c2,er ^^^ ^ ^comfortable hotel, denominated the Breiden- 
J^^ ^e foj^^^ ^^ the servants spoke French and English, 
^'^^-^ejTed aun P®T>l©3dties of the day in an excellent and 

^^^^^ia little orn^^ of those quiet, sleepy sort of towns where 
^^ ^be Prussian boI%^^^^^^^^ beyond music in the Hofgarten, 
^^ pleasant Jiome J^^ ^^^ parade the streets ; it is the quiet 
^gs and whose soU 1^^°^ accomplished artists, whose paint- 
ed it is often visi^^ ^^^^ ^^ famiUar to many in America,- 
of purchasing pictu^ ^^ American tourists for the purpose 
the guide-books di^^.^*'^^ the easels of its artists; indeed, 
Rhenish Art.^ A^ V ^^ ^ith the title of the «* Cradle of 
cient and able cioe^^^^'Js visiting Dusseldorf find an efB- 
consul, who, from tig^® ^^ Henry ^®^ ^8q-» ^® -^^®^?"^ 
seifa Dusseldorf ^j^.fcng resiiJ^i*^ **^®™> ^^^ ^^^ bim- 
ations, and having S a^^ withal * member of their a88o<i- 
artist life, is a g^Otle>^*^^^ate ^.^^naiiitance with artists and 
trymen in their p^J?^'^ ^^^e\ly qualified to aid our conn- 
disinterestedness ^i^^ '^^^ of ^ ^txres, which is done with a 
warmest regards of ^ ^^^^y^t^^^ ^^^^ ^on for b™ ^^^ 

To be sure, flo^^ a^^^^bJ^^ ^^"^^ ^ited the place, 
priety in pictures, v^-^^caiio ^Ji very queer ideas of pro- 
in Europe, sometii^^ "^^^ ^^ms^l^ ^ ^^^^ ^o o^^^^ ^^^^^^ 
absurd extravaga^^^ ^^niiVin *b^^ ^^^ntrymen by their 
exhibitions a fine pj "^ of cond ^* ^^® of the artists' 

acavali^whohad j^^^ Vas p^j^^ o«t to me, i^pi^senting 
in an old medirnvsil^ ^txtj^^^""^^^ 

representation of a ti^^«. ^^ ^o^^^^ j^ the painting, was a 
piece This picture T^^ Mde, hi^l ol^^ <>^^euted chimneyw 
well-known in hia ^.^^^^ted Th^ Jti^^*^^ ^^ an Americam 

^^^ OounS^^ ^ P^Prietor of pat«* 


medicines. He saw nothing in the rich costume and color- 
ing of the cavalier'fi dreBS, the fine interior of the old medisBval 
mansion; but he noticed that the mantel of the antique fire- 
place was empty. Lucky circumstance ! He proposed to pur- 
chase the picture of the artist on condition of an alteration, 
or rather addition, being made, which was the painting in of 
a bottle of the purchaser's celebrated syrup, with its label dis- 
tinctly visible, to be represented occupying one end of the 
mantel, and boxes of pills and ointment (labels visible) oe 
cupying the other end. 

To his credit be it known, the artist absolutely refused to 
commit such an outrage, notwithstanding double price was 
offered him for ^the job;" and the glories of Blank's pills 
continue to be painted in printer's ink, and not the artist's 

Through the kind courtesy of Mr. Lewis, we were enabled 
to visit the studios of nearly all the leading artists of Dus- 
seldorf We saw the fine Swiss scenery of Lindler, the life- 
like, quaint old burghers and Dutch figures of Stammel, the 
heavy Dutch horses and the quiet, natural, rural, and road- 
side scenes of Hahn, and the sharp, bold style of figure-paint- 
ing of Stever, rich in color and striking in expression — an 
artist whose pictures, in the exhibition, always have a group 
of spectators about them; and then we saw Lewis's own 
clever landscapes and Swiss mountain scenes, and finally 
went off to the Dusseldorf gallery, where we saw a host of 
original sketches and drawings by the most celebrated artists 
of all schools. 

One thing newly-arrived Americans quickly learn here, 
as well as in Rome and Florence; and that is, that good 
pictures command good prices : they may be obtained at a 
lower figure than at home, yet they are by no means sacrificed 
for a song. The facilities of travel are now so great, and 
Americans and English with money to spend do so pervade 
the continent, that the opportunities of obtaining really 
meritorious works of art at a very low price in Europe are 
decreasing every day. 


The Prussian soldiery are seen everywhere in Dosseldori ; 
they are a,, fine, intellectual-looking set of men, not very tall, 
but splendidly drilled. A re^ment that I have seen pass, 
with its magnificent military band at its head, was so exact 
in the pei-pendicular of the muskets carried by the men, that 
I verily believe a plank might have been laid upon the points 
of the upright bayonets, and it would have been found a true 

The band in the Hofgarten plays the Strauss waltzes de- 
liciously. The shady walks, the flower-beds, the pretty vases 
and fountains, are enchantingly soothing and romantic on a 
summer's evening, under the influence of music, Rhine wine 
or lager. But we must bid adieu to ol4 Dusseldor^ which 
we learn, with some surprise, as we turn our back upon it for 
the city of perfumes (Cologne), to be a town of fifty thous- 
and inhabitants — a fact one would never di*eam of, from its 
lack of that bustling spirit that characterizes an American 
town or city of that population. 

Now for the " castle-crowned Rhine." We leave Dnssel- 
dorf behind, and as the steamboat journey from here is a 
somewhat dull and uninteresting one, there being no features 
of natural beauty on the river between the two points, we 
rattle down by Cologne and Minden Railway in about an hour 
ind a hal^ and quarter at the fine Hotel du Nord, at Cologne, 
near the railway bridge, which is all of a bustle on account 
of the arrival of the King of Sweden and suite ; and some of 
the blue-eyed, golden-haired blondes of that "suite" we had 
the pleasure of meeting occasionally, as we passed in or out, 
would have been " all the rage " in America, could they have 
been transplanted to that country. 

Cologne, the oldest town on the Rhine, is built with long, 
winding, semicircular, narrow streets, along the river. It is 
now the capital of Rhenish Prussia, and appears to be a 
strongly fortified place, being surrounded by strong, high 
walls. A bridge of boats and a stone bridge span the Rhine 
from Cologne to a little town called Deutz, opposite, and 
the city seems to have considerable business activity. B& 


nish builders, workmen, and contractoi*s with work ; indeed, a 
New York man was stioick with the bright idea that it would 
be to get the Prussian government to undertake it, and let 
the job out to contractors, and he knew that the builders of 
the new City Hall in New York would undertake it, and 
spend time and money enough over it, and in a manner that 
would astonish the old church buildei*s of Europe. 

The cathedral stands on a slight elevation, some fifty or 
sixty feet above the Rhine, upon a portion of the old Romaa 
camp-ground, where the soldiers of Agrippina, the mother of 
Nero, rested after war's alarms, and watched the flow of the 
winding river at their feet. Countless sums of money have 
been lavished upon the building, and centuries of labor. 
Guilty monarchs, and men whose hearts have reeked with 
sin, have bestowed wealth upon it, in the hope to buy absolu- 
tion for their crimes with the same dross that had purchased 
so many of the world's coveted pleasures. In 1816, forty- 
eight thousand pounds were expended on it, and between 
1842 and 1864 over three hundred thousand pounds were laid 
out. The great southern portal, which is two hundred and 
twenty feet high, cost alone one hundred and five thousand 
pounds. Some idea of the vastness of the cathedral may be 
had from the figures representing its dimensions. The inte- 
rior is four hundred and thirty feet long and one hundred and 
forty broad ; the transept two hundred and thirty-four feet 
long, and the choir one hundred and forty feet in height. The 
part which is appropriated for divine service occupies an area 
of seventy thousand square feet. 

We strolled round this stupendous old building, and after 
shaking off the guides and valets de place^ who proffered their 
services, the agents of cologne-water houses in the vicinity, 
and the venders of books, stereoscopic views and pictures of 
it, and even a monkish old fellow who came out of one of the 
side doors, and rattled a money-box for subscriptions for the 
workmen, proceeded to have a look at it in our own way. 
There stood out the old derrick, or crane, an iron arm fifty 
feet long, that has projected firom one of the towers, which is 


one hundred ssd ninety feet high, for four hundred 
probably in WMting to assiet in completing the remaini 
hundred and eighty-six feet, the projected height beii 
hundred and seventy-six. The Gothic arches, canopi 
tresses, and tracery, with statues of the apostles and 
ore bewildering in detail and number. In one oma 
arch is a relief contdning no less than seventy diffen 
urea, and another has fifty-eight small canopies wrougl 
In fact, the building Bcctns to bo a monument of stone-i 
skill, as well as an exemplification of the detail of 
architecture ; and you may mark that which is crumb 
decay beneath the unsparing tooth of time, and on thi 
edifice that which, sharp and fresh, but yesterday 1 
sculptor's chisel ; and ho the work goes on. The centra 
and iron frame-work of the roof of the body of the 
and transept were only completed in 1861, and the inti 
the church since 1863, that is, if the interior can be sa 
to be completed, with workmen continually ^nw At"? ' 
To got inside we find that a series of tickets must 
chased of the custodian who guards the entrance at t 
sept These paid for, we proceeded, under the pilotf 
good-natured, though not ovcisclean churchtuan, to toi 
points of interest in the vast interior. "Wo bad t 
beauUful view of Gothic arches and cluster piilaia 
so grand a perspective in these cathedrals- "^ ^ ^'^ 
six pillars in all Those of the nave were one Ua 
six feet in height, and of the side aUW fortV^"**' 
chapels are rich in pictures, decorate^ al*'**'**"' *\ 
most celebrated is that known a^ \\i O*^*^ 

luuau i^t^it^uiat,EU IB uiUt Known ^n .v t^»^ ' 

Magi, m which ™ agoi^ous <,T^J,^^&^'''": 
cover richly ornamented and set -v^- e*-^ 

this was revcK-iitly removed, We v^^^P^ »>*' 
man skulls, circled with m,Iden „ *^V\d *V»** 

man skulls, circled with golden o ^^^^^ t>* 
gravely infonned uj «-ere iho «!, ?'«'tui.1*'^* 
Balthazar, .be Tl.rce Uag^ or "^^^ oFC**^ ' 
fgnred at the adoration of our ^ '»B Me** 
One can hardly repreM a sin,-, '*'>'iour 


the nineteenth century, by a man who has had the .advan* 
tages of education, as our priestly guide evidently liad ; but 
the serious manner in which he imparted his information, and 
to our doubting comments pointed to the names set in rubies, 
and assured us that the relics were presented in the twelfth 
century by the Emperor Frederic Barbarossa, and that he had 
not time now to question historical facts, disposed of the sub- 
ject in our case. So, at the Church of St. Ursula here, where 
the bones of eleven thousand virgins (!), who were murdered 
in Cologne on their return from a pilgrimage to Rome, are 
shown. The unbelieving Thomases of the Protestant faith 
try the patience of the pious custodian sadly by their irrever- 
ent questions and disrespectful remarks. 

In the great sacristy and treasury of the cathedral we 
saw a rich collection of magnificent vestments for priests, 
bishops, and other church officials, costly gold and silver 
chalices, cruets, fonts, goblets, church vessels, &c Among 
these were several splendid " monstrances," or a sort of frame- 
work, in which the consecrated wafer, or host, is held up to 
view before the congregation in Roman Catholic churches. 
One of these was of silver, weighing eight pounds and a halfj 
adorned with rubies and diamonds, with a superb diamond 
cross hanging from it, and around it a collar of turquoises, 
amethysts, and sapphires ; there was another of solid silver, 
much heavier, the gifl of Pope Pius IX., and still a third, 
which far outshone all the rest in magnificence. This last 
was a foot and a half in height, was of solid gold, and weighed 
ten pounds and two ounces ; it was studded with large jewels, 
and the gold beautifully enamelled. The cylindrical space for 
enclosing the host measured four and a half inches in diame- 
ter, and is cut out of a piece of mountain crystal. The value 
of this monstrance is immense, and it is only used on great 
holidays, and carried in procession but once a year — Corpus 
Christi, the next Thursday afler Trinity Sunday. 

The cabinets in this treasuiy were rich indeed with mate- 
rial wealth of the cathedral ; and our priestly guide took a 
pride in displaying it, fiimishing me many £icts for my note- 



^... a^M^ <^ffr,AofPf>i\ < V ^ 

gold and erxa^ ""^ crOSS Sud ^^^^^ '^Z^'^^S^ 

,. . . ..-^fir*^' ..rice, maffOi" ..^^ntr-fir^r^ >iZ> ^-17 


" did aUver c^ 
- ; next caOd' 

rubies, and pef*» 

every pontiSca.*'' a0" ^3/000 ^j r^i^qUa.^ 
monda and pe»r/^' WOJV sp^^^zflnXJ^ ^^^^^^ 
Bterling; then t»^^ ^„ ^ . rt^''*^ =ral. oP i 

jewel,: .mosaid to ^'t^'O Pj C'^^ '„'« ' "^ 1 

Bhip; crosses, sUver bnals, car* •»'^'' " . *? '^k^?^^^ 

did .ilvei- shrine of St. Engelb^'Vttt t'a^'"'^U ^ _^^V% 
forty-nine pounds, and adornctl *^j^ piece ot ;j^-j^«s^ 
email statuettes — a moat vaJu^^,!^, ^^^***;, 

work of art, made in the year 1^ ^^ol^' Bi^^&I- 

From this rich storehouse <^* ^v oi the * ■^=*-*:a 
passed out onee more into the \iO^^J . ^^^». «;^j 

ragged women or porerty-atrielceu "^^j * _ ■**«^*»:; 

oheeka, knelt on the pavement to tcil a fitrXj-a j^^ J 
mutter a prayer or two, and tlxen rise and fblJ<3>-^,^_ , 
street to beg a few groschen, or, as -we pasfleel, t«i» 31 
by an individual, who had charge oF a rattling- Jrx» <z»j»-^ 
a contribution towards rtie completion of the c2i i:» :m— -*=s. 

Nearly two hundred tvoilimeii are at worjc u j=» -«=» 
logno Cathedral, renewing ^^^^ ,i,-hiell has onimfc»-I -t= > 
cay and time, and compieting that -wllioh is etiU -«=■ 

A good idea of its magnVtvi.a« oan te oUained t»^3-^ 
the galleries. Aceeaa i, ^ha-a vo tteso by a ffiS*-* *^=' 
one of the great prllar*. q^^ -taairea and °°-^^, 

counted them a» we -wen,, eoitv «i6 ™*o.»^^ ».^=^ 

which extends across tiiG +^J; Vn*""^?"^^^ -«^ 

and you reach another ^^"^^'^ X« """"S^.^-. 
building, in a tour of ^Vj?-?^^''^ "' !> *;J^**'^ 
archit(«:ture, and also Y.,^ "=''^'^ ^''S .« "^ ^Lto"*"** 
beautiful one of tho S-iiiS^ "■ ^^* ■" \p<*"' 


■^^ a.lL^a. ^ 


There is a gallery corresponding to this on the interior of 
the building, which affords the visitor an equally good oppor- 
tunity to observe the interior decorations and arohitectural 
features. You mount ninety-eight steps more, and reach a 
third gallery, which runs around the entire roof of the 
cathedral, a distance of sixteen hundred feet. Here the 
panorama is more extended and beautiful. You see the river 
winding on its coui*se far in the distance. Below are the 
semicircular streets, the bridges of stone and of boats, the 
numerous little water craft dotting the stream, and on every 
side the lovely landscape, fresh and verdant in the summer 
sunlight. Above us, on the roo^ or ridge-pole, runs an orna- 
mental gilt crest, looking like spikes from below, but really a 
string of gilt spires, nearly five feet in height, while the great 
cross above is twenty-seven feet high, and weighs thirteen 
hundred and eighty-eight pounds. From this gallery we 
passed in through a little door under the roofing, and 
above the vaulted arches of the interior, to an opening which 
was surrounded by a railing. Through this opening the spec* 
tator has an oppoitunity of looking to the interior beneath 
him, and has a view directly downwards to the pavement, one 
hundred and fifty feet below. 

The middle steeple is yet to be ascended. This is strongly 
built of iron, and ninety-four steps more carry us up to the 
highest point of ascent — thi'ee hundred and twenty-nine 
steps in all. The star wliich surmounts the steeple above us 
is three hundred and fifty feet from the pavement. A glance 
below at the cathedral shows the form of its ground plan, 
and the landscape view extends as far as the eye can reach. 

Cologne is not an over-clean city, and we were not soiTy to 
embark on the dampschifb^ as they call the little Rhine steam- 
boat, for our trip to Mayence. These little steamers, with 
their awning-shaded decks, upon which you may sit and dine, 
or enjoy the pure light wines of the country, — which nevei 
taste so well anywhere else, — and view the romantic and beao- 
tiftd Boenery upon the banks of this historic river as you glide 
al >ng, afford a most delightftd mode of transit, and one which 


we most thoroughly enjoyed, the weather bsing charming, 
and the boat we were upon an excellent one, and not crowded 
with passengers. 

The great Cathedral of Cologne, a conspicuous landmark, 
and the high arches of the railroad bridge, gradually disap- 
pear as wo steam away up the river, lookbg on either side at 
the pleasant views, till the steeple and residences of Bonn 
greet us, after a two hours' sail. Here we make a landing, 
near the Grand Hotel Royal, a beautiful hotel, and charm- 
ingly situated. Facing the river, its two wings extend from 
the main body of the house, enclosing a spacious garden, 
which stretches down to the river banks, and is tastefully 
laid out with winding walks, rustic arbors, and flower-beds. 
From its garden and windows you may gaze upon the charm- 
ing panorama of the river, with the peaks of the Seven 
Mountains rising in the distance, and the Castle of Oodesbuig 
on its lofly peak, near the river. 

But our little steamer fumes and fusses at its landing-piaoe, 
eager to depart ; so we step on board, and it steams once 
more out against the curling cun*ent between the hills of 
Rhineland. The scenery now becomes more varied and 
interesting; pleasant little roads wind off in the distance 
amid the hills ; a chapel is perched hero and there, and ever 
and anon we meet some big, flat-bottomed boat floating idly 
down the stream, loaded with produce, with a heavy, loose- 
jacketed, broad-leaf-hattcd German lounging in the stem, 
smoking a painted or ornamented pipe, and you think of the 
jiicturcs you have so often stared at in the windows of the 
print shops. 

We begin to note the vineyards on the sloping banks, the 
vines on sticks four or five feet high, and sometimes in what 
appeal's to be unpromising looking ground. 

We pass various Jittle to^^s with unpronounceaUe names, 
such as Kiederdollendor^ for instance. We make occasional 
landings, and take on board women with queer head-dresses, 
and coarse, black, short dresses, stout shoes, and worsted 
stockings, and men with many-buttoned jackets, holiday vel* 


vet vests, painted porcelain pipes, and heavy, hob-nailed 
shoes ; children in short, blue, coarse jean, and wooden shoes, 
all of whom occupy a position on the lower forward deck, 
among the light freight — chiefly provisions and household 
movables — that the steamer carries. The shores begin to 
show a background of hills; the Seven Mountains are in 
view, and Drachenfels (Dragon's Rock), with its castle 
perched eight hundred and fifty-five feet above the river, on 
its vine-clad height, realizes one's ideas of those ancient cas- 
tles where the old robber chieftains of the middle ages estab- 
lished themselves, and from these strongholds issued on their 
freebooting expeditions, or watched the river for passing 
crafts, fi-om which to exact tribute. The scenery about here 
is lovely ; the little villages on the banks, the vine-clad hills, 
little Gothic churches, the winding river, and the highlands 
swelling blue in the distance, all fill out a charming picture. 

Still we glide along, and the arched ruin of Rolandseck, on 
its hill three hundred and forty feet above the river, appears 
in view. A single arch of the castle alone remains darkly 
printed against the sky, and, like all Rhine castles, it has its 
romantic story, which you read from your guide-book as you 
glide along the river, or hear told by some di'eamy tourist, 
who has the romance in him, which the sight of these crum- 
bling old relics of the past excites. And he tells you how 
Roland, a brave crusader of Charlemagne's army, left his 
lady love near this place, when he answered the summons of 
the monarch to the Holy Land ; how the lady, after his pro- 
longed absence, heard that he was dead, and betook herself 
to a convent on the picturesque little island of Nonnenworth; 
how the bold crusader, who had not been killed, hastened 
back on the wings of love, eager to claim his bride after his 
long absence, and found her in the relentless clutch of a con- 
vent ; how, in despair, he built this castle, which commanded 
a A^ew of the cloisters, where he could hear the sound of the 
convent bell, and occasionally catch a glimpse of a fair form 
that he knew full well, passing to her devotions ; how, at last, 
she came no more, but the tolling bell and nuns' procession 


told him that she whom ho loved was dead ; and how, from 
that moment, the knight spoke no more, but died heart-broken, 
his last gaze turned towards the convent where his love had 
died ; and all that remains of the knightly lover's castle is the 
solitary wall that lifts its ruined arch distinct against the 
dark-blue sky. 

We pass tlie little island of Nonnenworth ; and the nun 
nery is still upon it, founded far back in the eleventh century, 
but rebuilt in the fifteenth, and suppressed by Napoleon in 
1802, and now a sort of school under the management of Fran- 
ciscan nuns. The view about here, looking down the river, 
is romantic and beautiful. On one side, on the more level 
country, lie several small villages; then, down along the 
banks of the river, rise the rugged cliffs, the ruined castles of 
Rolandseck and Drachcnfels crowning two jutting points of 
the hills, and in the distance, mellowed by the haze, the 
peaks of the hills known as the Seven Mountains, and Lo wen- 
berg peak, crowned with a crumbling ruin, rise to view, 
which, with the little island and its convent for a foreground, 
form a charming picture. 

We sail along, and make another landing for passengers at 
Bemagen. Opposite Remagen we see a huge clif^ which 
rises nearly six hundred and fifty feet above the river, and is 
profitable, as well as pictui-esque, for it is a stone quarry, the 
product of which can be placed directly into the river craft 
at its base. The Rhine now describes a long curve, as we 
approach Nieder-Breisig. A little village called Duttenberg 
is wedged in between the hills, on a little river that empties 
into the Rhine, and, as we pass it, the tall, round, stone 
towers of Arenfels come in view. Then we reach Nieder- 
Breisig, and opposite is Rheineck, with its modem-built 
tower crowning the height. Then we come to the two Ham- 
merstcins, with their vineyards and castle, and then the pic- 
turesque old town of Andemach heaves in sight, with its tall 
watch-tower overlooking the river. Then come Kaltenen- 
gens and others, which I at last became tired of noting down, 
and enjoyed the afternoon sunset that was softening the vin^ 


clad slopes, and lighting up the arches and windows of each 
ruined castle, chapel, or watch-tower that was sure to crown 
every conspicuous eminence, until, at last, our little steamer 
rounded in at the pier at Coblentz, with its fine hotels strung 
along near the river bank, and the Gibraltar of the Rhine, 
the grim old Castle of Ehrenbreitstein, looking down on as 
from its rocky eminence on the opposite shore. 

Coblentz, the guide-books tell us, is a famous stopping-place 
for tourists on the Rhine, between Cologne and Mayence, 
being equi-distant from both. It is certainly a capital hal^ 
way resting-place, and, however pleasing the steamboat trip 
may have been, the traveller can but enjoy the change to one 
of the clean, well-kept hotels at this beautiful situation. ^ 

The hotel agents were at the pier, — spoke English and 
French fluently, — and we were soon installed into the pleas- 
antest of rooms, commanding a view of the river, whose 
swiftly-flowing current rolls not fifty paces distant. A bridge 
of boats spans it, and high above the river bank rises the old 
castle, upon the battlements of which I can see the glitter (^ 
the sentinels' bayonets in the summer sunset. 

The bridge of boats, and the passengers who cross it, are 
a never-ceasing source of entertainment to us ; soldiers and 
elegantly-dressed officers from the castle ; country girls, with 
curious head-dresses; and now and then a holiday-rigged 
peasant ; costermongers' carts and dog-teams — one, consist- 
ing of three big dogs abreast, came over at full gallop, the 
driver, a boy, cracking his whip, and the whole team biurking 
furiously. We saw a whole re^ment of Prussian infantry,, 
a.rmed with the Prussian needle-gun, march over from the 
castle — a fine body of men, and headed by a band of forty 
pieces, playing in a style that would make the military entfiu- 
siasm, if the listener possessed any, tingle to the very soles 
of his feet. When steamboats or other craft desire to pass 
this floating bridge, a section is detached, — a sort of floating 
'*clraw," — and suffered to swing out with the stream; the 
stonmer passes the gap ; after which the detached section is 
pulled back to position again. 


Bight at this charming bend of the river, on one side of 
the town, flows the Moselle, as we call it, but Mozle, as you 
learn to pronounce it in Europe — the blue Moselle. "On 
the banks of the blue Moselle," ran the old song ; and as pic- 
turesque and poetical a river as can be imagined is the Mo- 
selle, with its arched bridge spanning it, and its sparkling 
stream winding through a lovely landscape ; but the portion 
of Coblentz that borders on its bank is poor and dirty, and 
in striking contrast with the elegant buildings and bright 
appearance of the Rhine fi'oht of the town : the ^ blue " of the 
Moselle refuses to mix with the more turbid glacieMinted 
Rhine, and for a long distance down the stream this blue 
makes itself visible and distinct from the Rhine water, till 
griadually absorbed by it. 

We are now beginning to come to those charming hotels 
on the great lines of continental travel routes, which in Ger- 
many and Switzerland are not the least attractive features 
of the tour. Here at Coblentz I enjoy excellent accommo- 
dations, room fresh and fragrant, with clean linen, spotless 
curtains, and not a speck of dust visible, my windows com- 
manding the charming Rhine panorama, waiters speaking 
French, German, and English, a well-served table d^hote^ and 
.all for less than half the price charged in America. 

The wine-drinkers here, from America, are in ecstasies, for 
we appear to be at headquarters for the light Rhine wines of 
the country ; two francs buy a bottle costing one dollar and 
twenty-five cents at home, and five francs such as cannot be 
got in America for three dollars. The sparkling Moselle and 
celebrated Johannisberger are to be had here in perfection, . 
and the newly-arrived American is not long in ascertaining 
what a different thing the same brand of wine is in this coun- 
try from what it is at home. 

"Ah, if we had wine like this at home, how I should like 
to have it oftener ! " have I heard frequently said by travellers. 
It is too true that it is extremely difficult to get pure (im- 
ported) wines and liquors, pay what price one may in Amer- 
ica; and perhaps one reason why the light wines of Germany 



are bo agreeable to the tourist's palate, is in the surroundings 
and the time they are taken, such as on the deck of a Rhine 
steamer, at the top of a steep crag, in a picturesque old castle, 
in a German garden, where a capital orchestra makes the 
very atmosphere luxuriant with Strauss waltzes and GungI 
galops, or at the gay table d^hote with pleasurenseeking tour- 
ists, who, like himself, are only studying how to enjoy them- 
selves, recounting past pleasure jaunts, or planning new ones. 

However, be this as it may, it is, I believe, acknowledged 
that the only place to get the Rhine wines is in Rhineland ; 
ftnd the difference between them and the compounds Air- 
iiished in America is obvious to the dullest taste. The purest 
and most reliable wines now in our own country are the 
California and other native wines, although they are not so 
fashionable as the doctored foreign, and imitation of foreign, 
that are palmed off as genuine. 

As I looked from my windows over the river and up at 
the fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, seated on its rocky perch 
three hundred and seventy-seven feet above the river, and 
the eye caught the occasional glitter of a weapon, or the ear 
the faint rattle of a drum, or the sound of the bugle call, 
softened by the distance, I found myself repeating fragments 
of Byron's Childe Harold. 

'* Here Ehrenbreitstein with her shattered wall, 
Black with the miner's blast upon her height, 
Yet shows of what she was when shell and ball 
Rebounding lightly on her strength did light." 

^ A tower of victory" it is indeed, for it has only twice 
been taken by an enemy during the best part of a thou- 
sand years — once by stratagem, and once being reduced by 

We crossed the bridge of boats, which is fourteen hundred 
and ten feet long, got tickets of admission to the fortress 
in the little town of Ehrenbreitstein the other side, mounted 
with labor up the steep ascent, and as we came within view 
of these tremendous works, upon which money and engineer' 


ing skill seem to have been expended without stint, we did 
not wonder at their impregnability, or that they excite so 
mucli admiration among the military engineers of the world. 
5Vom the rampaits we 'enjoyed a magnificent view of the 
whole river and the country between Andemach and Stol- 
zenfels. Below us was triangularnshaped CoWentz, and its 
row of handsome buildings facing the River Rhine, the bridge 
of boats and never-ending moving diorama sort of scene, 
while at the right of the town glided the blue . Moselle, its 
azure waters moving unmixed as they flowed along with the 
Rhine, and the railroad bridge spanning the stream with its 
graceful arches ; beyond that the fortifications of Fort Franz, 
commanding the river and vicinity ; and far off to the right 
of that a fertile plain towards Andemach, the scene of Caesar's 
first passage of the Rhine, B. C. 55, and of the sieges of the 
thirty yeara war, in 1631 to 1660, and the bloody campaignn 
of Louis XIV. 

Farther to our left, and near the junction of the two rivers, 
we observed the Church of St. Castor, built in 1208 ; and it 
was in a small square near this church, in one of our walks 
about the town, that we came to a little ihonument, raised 
by a French official at the commencement of the campaign 
against Russia, bearing this inscription : — 

"Made memorable hy the campaign against the Bussians, under the 

prefecturate of Jules Doazan, 1812." 

When the Russian general entered the town, he added 
these words, which still remain : — 

** Seen- and approyed by the Russian commander of the city of Coblentz, 

'January 1, 1814.** 

A delightful afternoon ride, in an open carriage, along the 
river bank for three or four miles, brought us to the foot of 
the ascent leading to the castle of Stolzenfels, which looks 
down upon the river from a rocky eminence about four hun- 
dred feet above it. Refusing the proffers of donkeys or chaise 
a porter for the ladies, we determined to make the accent 


on foot) and very soon fbxmd that the ^guides," donkeys, and 
portable chairs were " a weak invention of the enemy," for 
the road, although winding, was broad, easy, and delightfully 
shaiy and romantic. We passed an old Roman mile-stone 
on the road, and after crossing a drawbridge, reached the 
royal castle.. 

This most beautifully restored relic of the middle ages was, 
in 1802, a ruin of a castle of five hundred years before ; in 
1823 it was partially restored, and since then has been com- 
pletely rebuilt and beautified at a cost of fifty-three thousand 
pounds sterling. Everything is in good proportion, Stolzen- 
fels being somewhat of ^ miniature castle, its ffreat banquet 
hall scarcely double the size of a good-sized drawing-room ; but 
its whole interior and exterior are a model of exquisite taste. 
It has its little castle court-yard, its beautifully contrived plat- 
form overlooking the Rhine, its watch-towers and its turrets, 
all undersized, but in exact proportions. Through the tower 
windows, which are wreathed with ivy; from the windows of 
little boudoirs of rooms, which were cabinets of rare china 
and exquisite cabinet paintings ; from embrasures in galleries 
and halls which had exquisite statuettes, instead of large size 
statues ; from little Gothic windows in the chapel ; and, in fact, 
from every conceivable and most unexpected point was the 
visitor encountering different lovely framed views, as it were, 
of the natural scenery of the country. These outlooks were 
so skilfully contrived as each to give a different view, and as 
at this point of the Rhine is the narrowest and most romantio 
part of the valley, the views are of the most enchanting de- 

Looking out of an ivy-wreathed window of Stolzenfels, the 
spectator would see, framed, as it were, in stone-work and 
green leaves, a picture of the river, with its boats ahd bridges ; 
thiough another, or an embrasure, a square-framed picture of 
aiY elevation on the opposite bank, crowned by a pilgrims* 
chapel, while from the watch-tower you look down upon the 
lovely valley of the River Lahn, which near this point flows 
into the Rhine ; and from another turret we look back upon 


tho masBy walls of Ehrenbreitstcin, Coblentz, T^ith tbc apex 
of its triangle pointmg out into tbe stream, and bebind its 
base tbe strong walls of Fort Constantine, marked out like 
stone lines on tbe greensward. Tbe apartments in tbis castle 
are exquisitely fumisbed, and tbe furniture, tapestry, pic- 
tures, and statues adapted to barmonize witb tbeir size, wbicb 
is fairy-like in comparison witb castles generally. 
I In one ball were a series of beautiful frescoes of cbivalrio 
scenes — Godfrey do Bouillon at tbe Holy Sepulcbre ; Jobn 
of Bobemia at tbe Battle of Cressy; Rudolpb of Hapsburg 
judging knigbtly robbers, &c. Tbere was a beautiful little 
cbapel witb elegant frescoes. In tbe armory were specimens 
of Ugbt and curious armor, among wbicb were swords of 
Napoleon, Blucber, and Murat, specimens of exquisite Toledo 
blades, arabeaque ornamented daggers, exquisitely wrougbt 
and flexible cbain-mail sbirts, and otber curiosities of defen- 
sive armor. In tbe different rooms tbrough wbicb we were 
conducted, among otber works of tbe old masters, were 
cabinet pictures by Holbein, Titian, Van Dyck, Albert DUrer, 
Rembrandt, Ac. Tbe cbarming views of tbe surrounding 
scenery witbout, and tbe exquisite taste displayed on tbe 
interior of tbis royal castle, made us regret to leave its little 
leaf-clad turrets, fairy-like watcb-towers, romantic terraces, 
und picturesque battlements ; and we believed tbe custodian 
wben be averred tbat Queen Victoria was cbarmed witb tbe 
place wben sbe visited it a few years since, for it was fit to 
charm even a queen witb its beauty. 

Once more we are steaming up tbe river, and Stolzenfels is 
left bebind us, and tbe toweris of Labneck come in sigbt, a 
feudal castle restored by a wealtby Englisbman, and wbicb 
occupies a crag above tbe River Labn ; we pass little wbite 
villages nestled at tbe foot of tbe bills, and looking far inland, 
see tbe slopes bristling witb vineyards ; we are in tbc land of 
the \'ine. Next comes another great castle, Marksburg, frown 
ing from its rocky height four hundred and eighty feet above 
the stream, and we lazily inspect it by tbe aid of a double 
field-glass, as we lie at full length on a settee, beneath the 

842 LEGENDAJft^S^ <3-A.»TIiBS. 

Steamer's awning, and, on in<jrux-y find that after being an 
old feudal castle, and bearing it^s ^w^eight of half a thousand 
years bravely, it has been ^^^mrsk^^ed into a states prison! 
The little town near the rivor, sltx old watch-tower, a road 
winding off amid the hills for a fox-^^rround, and this old castle 
high above as the background, f<>nxi8 so charming a picture, 
that one wishes it might, by &otxx^ magic process, be trans- 
ferred to canvas, that he could c^sxxrr-y it away, and show it to 
others as it appeared to him. ^ax-ther on we pass the little 
castle of Liebeneck ; then comes JBoppard, where, in feudal 
times, once existed an establislixr>.^iit of the Knights Tern* 
plars. Next we sweep round a ^^^at angle or elbow of the 
river, and there come m sight of a. little village, with a Gothic 
church of the fifteenth century, fcol^i^^ and high above it, the 
two castles known as "the Broti^^ „ connected with each 
other by a narrow natural bridge o£^ i. 

These two castles have a lecr^-^^ -^ • ^ ^ ^««i« «n ♦La 

,5, . ,, , J 1. ii» .c^ ^*^^^> as m fact nearly all tne 

Khme castles have, and half tue c^v^ _ ^ > * • \,^„«:offl 
.... ^ il . . ^, *^*X£xrm of one's tnp consists 

m havmff them told to you at tlxe -■-s ^^ ^- n- ♦!»« 

V ipi* *^ * ^ I. 1. ^ ^^sht tmie, or recallmg the 

half-forgotten story of boyhood, -r^^^ , .^i_ 

^ J m * -t^iocemeal with some cam- 

pagnon de voyage The storjr o£> ^^ese casUes is familiar, 
and IS of two brothers loving the <;& i a /.^ . , , 

of jealousy; and finally the lady i,^ ^^"^^ lady, of faithlessness, 

fully German romantic name of^ ij^^ ""^^^ "^^ *^^ ^^^^^ 
convent at the foot of the hill-^ t;:haV • ^^^^ ^^^'^^ ^ ^^ 
do in these Rhine legends; it br^Z ^ ^® ^^^ *^®7 always 
story, and, perhaps, excites a desi^^ ^ *^® convent into the 
to see the cell occupied by the fUix* ^^ ^^® P^^^ ^^ the tourist 
ing that the exhibition may pro^?^^ *-^«nitent, without suspect- 
than he bargained for. . Well, ^j^^^^iething more of a sell 
brothers .were reconciled, and li^^ed '^©tired, the two 

instead of two. ^^^r after in one castle. 

More quaint little villages, othe^ i^t • 
the "Mouse'* tower, looms np^ -^^- *^^^ ^^stlesl Thi v^ 
walls, and round tower, rising frona"^^ ^*« square, k^' 
sky as we sweep by it; and St. Ooa. ^^^^ ^dst a ^^^^^^^^ 
town, comes in view, with the hv^^^ **> a conspi« ^^^^ the 

*^*»«»nfels, three 

844 nCTUSESQUE bbautt. 

was erected in the thiiteenth centuiy, as a toll-house for ex- 
acting tribute, and has served, if not as a prison, as a place 
of royal confinement — tradition being that the Countesses 
Palatine remained here durins then* accouchements. We 
wind round a point, and the Castle of Stahleck, once the prin- 
cipal residence of the Counts Palatine, makes its appearance; 
then come the ruins of Fiirstenbui-g, once the stronghold of 
an old robber, who was bold enough to fire into the emperoi^s 
boat that refused to pay toll as it passed ; the stream now 
narrows perceptibly, and a little slender tower, perched like a 
sentinel on w^atch on its walls, at a narrow ravine, attracts 
attention ; it is Sooneck, and was a robbers' stronghold in the 
eleventh century. 

Now we sweep roimd another bend in the river, and come 
in sight of the lofty pinnacles, turrets, and towers of the 
beautiful Castle of Rheinstein, tAvo hundred and fifty feet 
above the river, completely restored, the banner floating in 
the breeze from its topmost tower, and a basket suspended 
upon an iron crane from one of the to were towards the river; 
•the whole shows the tourist just how these old strongholds 
used to look during the middle ages, and a party of ladies, 
far up in a little ivy-clad bower, at an angle of the castle 
terrace, exchanged greetings with us in handkerchief wavingfl 
as we passed. 

Now we come to Ehrenfels, and the vineyards where the 
Riidcsheimcr grapes are raised ; these vineyards are arrayed 
in terraces, one above the other, and the banks all along 
on the side of the hill, upheld by arches of masonry, and 
brick and stone supports, put up apparently to keep the 
earth in place, and afford more space for the vines from which 
the celebrated A-intage is obtained. At this point, on a rock, 
in mid stream, stands the well-known Mouse Tower, cele- 
brated in Southey's legend as the retreat of Bishop Hatto, 
who sought to escape the rats by fleeing to it; bnt his eue- 
mies swam the stream, entered the stronghold, and 

" Whetted their teeth against the stones, t 

And then tliey picked the bishop's bones.** 

Bingen woal^ 
Americans and 
it was, had not^ 
soldier, who wai^ 
to the comrade 
were his memojri^^ 
Rhine,'* and sent? 


For no other 
and wished to 
written about, clid 
truth the little to^^^n. 
one side of it, the 
an old arched bridge 
look forth upon titx^ 
island bearing th.e 
vineyards on the 
Castle of Ehrenf^ls- 

Afler leaving 
Castle of Bromser 
and weeds, and 
noted not," exccx>ti 
white toy, away xx-p 
was Sony I attomi^tc^eL 
English, was coixix>^\^^^<^ 
absolute inapossVV>Wxty 
the pronuTicxatiXO 
capelle, and tlxei 
the old castle, 

The vixxeyaxrAs 



— as tUey 

' This 



■to <i< 
xi:ig' littl 

oxrolo xonnd 
oSLS-t\efc are said 
-tYxat tVie eel 

xt. -wVnc-is mj 

-v\xke-yaYd is 8it\i 

1 miles i» 
of the Kh 

the Stein 
bergs," ^ 
jured by 
T perfecti^^^ 
^ we paB^ 
, more ^«^ 
ome cou:i^ 
serried rcr 
les. He:r 
jrwallufi 1^ 
jtstein en^ 
je, splcBdL 
dB, and CO 
cathedral *^ 
[ayence, vrH "■ 
stantine saV 
ress in the 
jy the RoniC^ 
oman acqu^^^ 
Roman caf^^ 
it erected by^ ^ 
niander-in-c*^ * 
•s ago, an a_ 
ht, — Mayer* 
h-ed and t^v 
>nd of our j 
o expected^ 
;ed with tb^^ 
succession o 
3st attache <1 
rne and ]Sti^3^ 
titic ruins t>l^^ 
[neyards, cj. 
s, Gotliic 
3S, of cour^ 

- . ^ tjie finest 
p. There a-'^ Rudesue , ^^^„^^j^ 

^Vo or three i^l^'^^^'^^f J Ltle ruins, or 

*^wallea *o^»%^t^kepI vmeyarde, with 

*%esiderxee3 --J J^^^e teiace on the 

^>^f vines risxrig ten-ace ^f 

^ ^lea of Mayence. ^ Emperor 

-^'vision of the .^'O^^'^^^tS founded B.C. 
*lan confederation, which was lo ^^ 

-Cd where *^«:^. ^^^^t ^iTh^ siteof 
* + a Roman biirxal-grouno, <i 

^::.d,in the --U- of .*^: ,f Jjt^f tbeir 

^ of the Roniaia 1«S^°'«."! ^"° hundred 

jyy^sxxB, more ttan ^ig^*®^" „ feet in 

^^looking, gray, circ^ar ^^'^'^^^^.^o 

^ i^ith its bridge of Boats, two ^^^^^^ -^ 

\^y feet in length, and Mayence, wbicn 

-^^\XSw Bt^^-ies, to have .^-5 
-:^Sne,and were — fa.-orahiy dis^PO^*^, 
atural beaiities of xts scenei?, t'^® " 
almost every foot of the course between 
lCsCi the novelty to -A^merican eyes 
^rown the picturesque heights,"'* 
X little towns, oda churches, P"""'***'^' 
liedrals, white-wallea cities, »"" °°*!r 
,od a charm to this heauti&l i^^"' "'^ 


yence, we fonad ourselves taking " - _ <ys*^* — ^ 

en, one of the oldest -watering-p^ac®* '^«i«'"_ 

mbling second only to Badoii-BaA«^- ^^,^^ 

ooms at the Hotel Victoria, and. t.^® ^e>*^'° - -v ~ -^ -« 

Tolzapfel, with a desire to facilvtato ^ 

at, very graciously presented ino ■W*-^ 


Our first walk 

guide-book, bearing the astoti.xi.<iit*& ,-, ^»;t^*^ 

'ur Wiesbaden und seine Urnff^i'^^.^^^r'*^''^^^^ 

led me, " Im Auftrage des Vcr^f'^^*' 


individual, nnacquain tod wit& i 

cid little guide, printed in Btnall Ge ^ 

leeing the sights 1 However, I thanSJTj.i'*^^^^:::;- "^^ 
■'■'-"*"■' **■" guide-book as one of ^„ . ---^^ -i^b^,,.^ 

.Ik was to the chief attract hL^^ ^ 
the great gaming-bouse known as tho Curs-».i^^'^ 
jgestive of the more appraprfate title Curses "* ^'aN*" 
spacious and elegant gaming-saloons th T^ 't^ -^*a 
jed so often, were open for play frow, \ ^^r^ -^^m^ 

'. M^ and which, during the season arZ'fi!" ^^ J^'^'^ 
■a at the roulette and fow^s^t^^ .' ^ *"roii>^^>'^^^\<' 
•e of attraction to strangerB, wliei, "*^a- ^j^' " 

Duchess of Honiburg, who was ea 

the table by her servant, and £ra.iy,vi 


lutch, when she won. ~ ***■ li' 

vith elegant H- 
iis, and adjoining the bnilditig !„ ^^^ing i^ 
id out park and pleasure-gro^jj^ ^*i ^Xtj! ?^> s 
the afternoon, and throngs <V^ * '^^r^ . ^'^e n a 
B, and arbors. All these are ^^*^'^* its ?*"^ V^ 
mes, in the evening, the ban^ ^^ to tit ''Shle/ 
ayly-dressed crowds are whir-H»^ ^^^S'a - ^■isit y 
L galops, and couples, for a res* ® ^^Oti*^ *he \J 
the adjacent lofty saloona of ^5**^"^- a», J"^ Qt.^. ' 


Duchess of Honiburg, who was ea vT* ^^^^ tti. 
,>,.,=i,i«i.«w..™«„. «„^ ^^^ ay «.!._. 



ing-hall is furnished with ^'eg^— . 

icrupling a malediction when she, \ ** ^'Wav 
nceal the eager gratification that t*!*^^^ ^^AvW / 
atures, or made the gold rattl© - ^^^d ^^ V 
lutch, when she won. ***■ Kei- tpT^^V 

which Is m dtriking eoo.^*^ 
out. Here the only loU-^^ 
agers of the table, whi^?-*^*^ 
subdued hum and the nd-*^^ 

.clink against the croupi^^ 
firom every part of the ii^* 
irith the familiar and oft-- 

'•^Faites voire jeu^ mes 

""Lejeu^ est'il faiif*' 

^ JRien ne va plusP 

(Make your game^ger 
ing more goes). Or, at 
ment of the numbers, 
the ball in the revolviu' 

Leaving Wiesbaden, ' 

the water of which taj 
of salt and water, we s' 
we rode through bea 
were broad double h 
Here is the monumer • 

figures of Guttenber 
the ornamental worl 
and grouped aiound 
Poetry, History, anc" 

Here we saw the 
down through the J 
inhabited by the Jc > 

narrow to permit i ' 

painted, high, qua ' 

black with age, st 
second-hand cloth 
hand merchandise 
children, with sp 
Jewish nose. T' 
posts to deep, da 
that lead away u 
the entry of one 



structures yawned a huge trapdoor, occupying more than half 
the space from the threshold to the stair. Peeping down the 
aperture, left where the half leaf had been raised by its old- 
fashioned iron ring, I could see nothing but blackness, and 
imagine how some wealthy Hebrew might have made this the 
drawbridge to his citadel, so that the robber, who gained ac- 
cess beyond the bolts and chains that guarded the portal, 
would, with a step, be precipitated into the depths below. 
An iron ring, a trap-door, and old house in the Jews' quarter 
— what an amount of capital or material for a sensational 
story-writer in a cheap publication! 

Here, in the Jews' quarter, we were shown the house in 
which Rothschild was bom,— ^Rochid they call the name 
here, — and just as we were emerging from the narrow, 
gloomy, and dirty passages of this quarter, my eye caught a 
familiar object in the little grated window of a sort of shop or 
office. I looked a second time, and there, the central figure 
amid a straggling display of bank notes of diffisrent nationali- 
ties, was a five-hundred dollar United States five-twenty bond, 
a part of the stock in trade of a Jew exchange and money 
broker, who, notwithstanding the unpretending appearance 
of his shop, which looked like a prison cell with the outside 
shutter down from the grated window, would probably have 
been able to furnish a purchaser ten times the amount on 
demand if he required it. 

In striking contrast to the Judengasse is the Zict, the finest 
street in Frankfort, filled with elegant shops and houses. 
The Jews in Frankfort were so tjrannically treated, that they 
founded the Jews Street themselves in 1462, and lived ex- 
clusively in that quarter of the city till the year 1806, and in 
olden times, on Sundays and holidays, the entrances to this 
quarter were closed with gates and bars, and any Jew who 
ventured into any other part of the city incurred a heavy 
penalty. Now, midway between Judengasse and the Ziel 
rise the business offices of the Rothschilds, that opulent family 
to whom even the proudest in their hours of need would fain 
doff their caps for favors ; and hard by the progress of tolera- 

tion 18 marked by a fin< 
style in 1855. 

We rode to the He 
one of the city gates 3 
heaped together, upon 
helmet, and ram's he a 
with the names of tli 
1792. The Latin ins 
monument was erectec 
sia, who was an admiiH 

When we rattled ov 
berg, on om* way to tli 
sides for groups and 
figure so prominently 1 
to meet a string of si> 
the streets, smoking V 
clothes and ornamen 
songs. Or I might c 1 
each bearing a scar i 
one of those noted J 1 
But either the story- ! 
or we had arrived i 
found to be the ca? 
their favorite pastir 
mosphere of tobac 1 
favorite coffee-hous 
in a black velvet si 
occasional very pr 
scarlet embroidere | 
ber of an America: 1 

Some forward J \ 
the remaining roo 
the roof; so we w i 

square, an cnclc 
were admirably 
the curious old f 
frond which won: 


water in jars, paUs, and tubs, soxrx^ poising a Heavy wash-tub 
full upon their heads, and Tvallcixio off with a steady gai* 
under the burden. Overlooking- -tlie little- square, rose the 
famous Heidelberg Castle, three Ixixxidred feet above us;, and 
we could see a steep foot-path. lo£i,<3iiig to it, known as the 
Burgweg (castlo-way), which eotrxxxi^nced on the side of the 
square opposite our hotel. 

Heidelberg is charmingly sitnat^d on the River Neckar, 
is rich in historical associations, a.xi^ as all readers are aware, 
is attractive to the tourist chiefly -fx-^m its university, and its 
castle, which is one of the last ox-^ations of the old castle- 
builders, and seems in its style t:,^ ^^ somethmg between a 
stronghold and a chateau, a pal^o^ and a fortification. It 
certainly is a most hnposing axx<i x^iagnifieent ruin, with its 
lofty turrets, ^at round towers, -t^n-aces, arched gateways, 
and still splendid court^yards axi^ ^^ounds ; the splendor of 
the buildmgand beauty of its Bit^^^^j^^ j^^^^^^ ^^^ ^^thusi- 
astic guidebook to style it "the ^H^^^fe^a of the Germans." 

A good, comfortable nights ^o^t. ^t the Eagle Hotel pre- 
pared us for the ascent next naor-r-^^ ^ .1 .^ 

and steps that led up to it froia t^^^^ ^^ t^ f *'^P P**^""*^ 
and after an ascent of about fiftoe^ ^""^ ^^***' "P ^^ ^ 
a massive arch-way, known as BW^"l"*1!^^® ^^^ *""^^ 
stand in the great court-yard of th^ T ^"^^S^ ^^ 

The portion of the buildings :fi, *^*«."®- 
closure are elegantly carved ana ^j *^«ting on this grand en- 
life-size sculptures; here is one jj-^^^^orated with arcades and 
the oldest part of the castle, a <3s.--.TT° ^ RudolTs buildbg, 
precht's building, founded in tlj^ ^ structure, then Rup- 
III, with beautiful Gothic windo^^.j^"^**'^ -^^^O, by Rupprecht 
tect's arms, three small shielda \x^ over which are the archi- 
carviitg is taken by many to be 801^^** ^^ escutcheon This 
but is nothing of the kind, but «Oeor^„'°';' of a masoni; maA, 
a coat of arms common to all Q;._/^ « '^ a little local 'A 
teresting legend as to its origin j^ ■***nan artists • n a ^ ** 
that one day the Emperor Ch^^j ^'*^ "W'hich ia't 1v ^^ ^°' 
artist, and found him busy painting® ^- ''^ited la , ^^^ 

^ ^* ^^^ top of n vT' ^« 

folding ; the emperor 

self, and at the same 

steady the tottering la 

ing it beneath his digi 

artist, pretended not 

npon advanced and si 

from that time the Ge 

the nobility of the em 

such as Holbein decid 

of three small uniform 

Then we have oth 

great court-yard, and 

ferent periods made tl 

ment to this romanti< 

is that known as Ott- 

restored twice, — the 

in 1764, — but the spl 

now, in its partially n 

its splendid facade, ri 

and decorations. Ln 

we can go and see tt 

and great hearth in 

whole oxen were ros 

Near here is the c 

pillars taken from Chi 

the pillars being thos 

royal ediiice. Then < 

Frederick IV. in 160 

der it a cbapel, over t 

the words of the Psal 

" This i 

But we are bewild 
fronts, and buildings 1 
now find to be a sort 
out to the great stoi 
upon the town and th 



These old castle-builders did have an eye for the beauti* 
ful ; and a grand point for observation is this great terrace. 
Only fancy a broad stone platform, seventy or eighty feet 
long by thirty feet wide, midway up the front wall of an 
elegant castle, rich in architectural beauty, the terrace itself 
with heavy cut stone rails, vases, seatd, and ornamental stone 
bowers at the comers, while spread out far below and before 
the spectator lies one of the loveliest landscape views that can 
be imagined. We can look right into the streets of the town 
directly below us ; beyond is the winding River Neckar, with 
its beautiful arched bridge, and beyond that a vine-clad height 
known as the Holy Mountain ; on one side is the lovely val- 
ley of the Neckar, romantically and luxuriously beautlM as 
it stretches away in the distance. The town of Heidelberg 
itself is squeezed in between the castle hill and the Rivei 
Neckar, which widens out below the town, and finally unites 
with the Rhine, which we see in the distance, and beyond it 
blue mountains, binding in the distant horizon, frame in the 
charming picture. 

I cannot, of course, describe, in the limits of a sketch, the 
massiveness, vast extent, and splendor of this castle, the pro- 
duction of three centuries, — commenced when the crusades 
were at their height, and not finished till long after cannon 
were in use ; so that we mark the progress and changes of 
architecture in each century, and cannot but feel that, in some 
respects, the builders of old times were in advance of those 
of the present day. One might stay here weeks, and enjoy 
the romantic scenery of the vicinity and the never-ending 
new discoveries which he makes in this picturesque old ruin. 
In 1689 the French captured the place and undertook to blow 
up the principal round tower ; it was so solidly and compact- 
ly built, however, that the enormous mass of powder they 
placed under it, instead of lifting the great cylinder into the 
air to fall back a heap of ruins, only broke off a third part of 
it, which toppled over entire in one solid chunk, and it lies 
as it fell, broken off from the main body as if by the stroke 
of a gigantic mallet, and exposes the wall of close knit ma> 
Bonry twenty feet in thickness. 



Wc wander through halls, court-yards, vaulted passages, 
deep dungeons, and lofty banquet halls, into round and square 
towers ; cross a regular broad old drawbridge wide enough 
for a troop of mail-clad knights to ride out from the great 
arched entrance, which stands in good preservation, with its 
turrets and posts for warders and guards, and thei*e is the 
huge, deep castle moat and all, just as we have read about 
them, or seen them illustrated in poetic fictions. 

We pass out upon a sort of long spur or outwork from the 
castle — a kind of outer battery, which is styled the great 
terrace, and was built in 1615 — a charming promenade, upon 
which is a mall, shaded by trees, and from which wc get 
another picturesque view of the scene below, and of the 
castle itself. 

But we must not leave Heidelberg Castle without seeing 
the Great Tun ; and so we pay our kreutzers to the little maid 
who acts as guide, and descend below, to the cellars of the 
&mous wine-bibbers of old. We came to a cellar in which 
there was a big barrel indeed, as it held two hundred hogs- 
heads of wine ; but this not coming up to the expectations 
of some of the party, there were expressions of dissatisfac- 
tion, until our guide informed us that this was only the front 
cellar, where they used to keep twelve little barrels of tbis 
size, and pointed out the raised platforms upon which tney, 
used to stand ; but the ^eat baiTel was m tbe \>ack ce ar^ 
So'we followed in, and found a big barrel inaieed, large as^^^ 
two-story house, thkty-two feet long an^ ^"^^"^^^'^^ ^xjad, 
high. It holds eight hundred hogaY^^^^^s ^* ^^^ ^^"^"Siow^^^^ 
and its contents fill two hundred ^ ^'^^'^'^^ \>atve'^ "^^ 
bottJes. The diameter of the hoaa 4^ ^^^ ^^^ce^v^^^ ^^"^ 
twenty-lwo feet, and the circumfc^ ^ C^^ ^"^""cA <^^^ ^t 
hundred and thirty-one feet. Tlx ^^^ f>^^^ x>o9Sv ^^ ^ ^^ 

cask, however, seems more out ^ ^TO^" r^^^a, "^^ ^^V^lf^^ 
phant's eye, for it measured scarc^i Pxop^^^^ xx^^^ 1\>>1 
Steps lead around the tun, and ^^^ W ^i^:^^i ^^t^. ^ 
laid a platform, on which a coi^. ^^ iu * ^^^-^ ^ 
enthusiastic ymU>r%. fieinembei^ ^^^ h^^ 

bamU of ttdfl kind down cellar, ^«^^& "^X. 

le size of the houae above, and, pcv\x*P*^ ^»!Kfc 

ties of those who uaed to inhaibiti v^ 


tifiil carriage road, passing tlie ^^'^^t^ ^^'^^^^^v. >^Ni 1 

em below, leads up to a pretty c'^ ,,» «& "^^**^*'^^!Ov ^iM* 

»bove the castle; and here, one A»j'^ ■O^*-^ pv ~^>^\^««» 

platform, and gladdened th© lieai** ^^■«^'^*" -^^^^<^*Jl'' 

T for lunch for the party, wliioli^ ^*l«*-o ^X*'^'*^ ^^ /flV^* Il8 

len, from which we conld loolc ^** ^— ^A^:^ jgr^^^' ''^^ 

. caetle, upon the town belo*^ ^ff<^ 

e were not permitted to enjoj^ ^^^ ^^yC^^^^./^ 

ier fltorm came roiling up the vallev » ^^■^ ,^ 

di --B, where^ however, we found the*h 

luch emergencies, as our viands were T 

ent with a glass side, looking towards tlT 

flat there, and watched the great guata -w«.*^i 
md the rain come swirling down in v ^--^ 
I, amid the peaJs of thunder that ecb <i ""^ 

itween the hills, and finally swent ^^^^ 

agrily mattering in the distance. " ^ 'Wit ^ ^ 

the Hartz MonntMns and Bl^t* -jJ^^^^Sl--^^^ 
fore the fairies of the valley, -^j^^ ^'oxeat 

in great clouds of shining miat *'^*' ^^' 

ainbow. ^ '*'*^*a-tclied 

>yed the prospect from this p\n_ 
I ancient castle, traces of "WhiQi, .^^^V<i\^ .^ 

carriage for the KonigBStulil ^*'*^l *^*n •' 
er far above us. A ride of aVxiut *^ ^^8*8 *^ 
ng woods, with the vegetation V^*? ^otj^ .^ 
3cent shower, brought us to tlii„ "^SKt 

Ired and fifty feet higher than ti» ^^^'*'^t,i^ ***^ 
red and fifty feet above the le-v«i.i *^*^tl*, ' * 
le summit of the King's Seat, ^ ^*' **»^ ^^ 
t in height, is erected, 'whi^jj^ *'**^ll^ **^ 
rded with a still more exten^j "'^'^ o^^'^'^e 
usly had of the surrounding oou ^ ^^^"^v- tL**^* 
dark and sombre foliage of ♦».**''*^. > ^ 

anotbei, die picturestja^ »^ '^^z/*^^ 

wald; in another, we ■'*'*^t/*^ '£0*^-^ 

town far beneath, and 9^^ ^ ^, /j "W 
through the landscape, ^ ■**^^'»»z" ^ 
are the Hartz MonntainSa^ *^ '**^^ « ^ 
German legends, in w-hi^f* t'^'^^^t^ 
h .ntsmen, who-wound Ta»0* ^ ■^^'^asfci 
tance, beyond the dark-^^ ^Z" ^^^Z^J 
field-glass, the cathedral sp""^ t^^*"*** ^Zml 
way we may, the view is ^ * ^^ f^ & 
kingly seat, for it comraan^i^ 
king could wish to look upo*'* ^ f>ip^^ — ' 

Heidelberg is a paradise " ru^ *^^ *f'' 
reached Vienna; but meersch^ ^ low, in 

qnaUty are sold here at prio^^ j^^ tempt 
what they cost in America, tli**-*'_ ->,i*>. Jlf 
to lay in a stock is almost irr-e^s*^*' 
with elegantly carved pure ivory banaies^ 
that is marveUously cheap here, f**"^"'}' *™r 
gold) purchasing the best an<a. most elabon 
grips or handles of which were -%v-ro«gtt into 
flowers, wreaths, and heads of "birds and anii 
windows held many pictures of students' clu' 
ikraed for the number of glasses of beer theii 
guzzle, he being elected president -^fflio co«l' 
of that Uquid— in fact, who made thebi^« 
himself In other wmdows -were dUplay^* ; 
a =;;ver cup, and a tall mwg, of fcwge capM'' 
sent the draught of the presiAe»t« of vs 
posed to be what they could- s-will at a bi 6 

The beer halls frequented, "by ^^^JaxAX 
the great lager beer saloonB i-«»- *■ ^f" '^^Vnjs 
ing, the tables are thronged^ -witW b^^^ 
Jng questions, playing ^*^"**"'J'^* oices 
There is a tremendous clatt^*" a.x»A ' 

thick — well, none but GS-e* ■J^'*' 
such a dense cloud. 

858 BADEK — : 

The XTniversity of Heidelbei-j^^ -««>->ii/*h is the oldest in Ger- 
many,! think was founded in XSS^. The university Duiia- 
ings — which are very old, sotne of them erected in 1693 — 
are plain and unpretending in -tlii oir appearance. The great 
library here contains over tw^o Ixiixidred thousand volumes, 
and many curious manuscripts, ^w^l^i^jh we did not inspect, as 
they are of interest chiefly to soie^ntific scholars, and only 
accessible between the hours of t^xi and twelve in the fore- 
noon. There is but Httle in th.o "bo^v^rn of Heidelberg itself to 
mterest the tourist. The great at:,-traction is the noble old 
castle, and the romantic highlands Si.'hout it 

A three hours' ride from Heiaell>^yg and we are at Baden- 
Baden, that gayest of the gay Wa-fc^ring.places on the conti- 
nent. We are driven to our hot^l^ the Hotel de PEurope, a 
most charming house, large, clean, and splendidly kept by 
hosts who thoroughly know their- lousiness, and entirely free 
from any of the extortions, swi^^^^ ^^ ^harp practices 
which disgrace our Saratoga ana I^ewport hotels. Indeed, 
everything m the hotels m Baden^^^^^ J ^ 3^ comfortable to 
the tounst, so pleasant, and even 1^^^ . ^ , i 

*• 1 I 4. 4. 4.1. * **^:acunous, and at such com- 
paratively moderate cost, that on^c:^. -!_,/.->. -. .i^. i. 
the proprietors of them maybe i^./^ half rnchned to thmk 

bank, and have an object in nxak?^^'^!^^.^ '"^ *^^ ^"^^^^ 
able to leave with a short visit. ^^^ **'^"* ^'^^^^^ ^ »g^^ 
to this hotel; and always one, an<i ''^ ^^® ^^^ proprietors 

stant attendance in the lower hall^^^'*®'^^^^ *^^* *^® ^ ^^ 
to attend personally to ' their gue^t: ^^^ ^^ ^^® *^*^^® d'hote, 
and, in fact, to serve them in ©Vei^^y-^* ^^ answer all questions, 
but justice to say, is done in the inoa-t- ^^ Possible, which, it is 
The Hotel de I'Europe is wi^e^ J ^^e^cceptionable manner, 
staircase in the centre is omatneri^ ^^^' ^^^ cool; the bi*oad 
pots, and runnmg and trailing pla-nts ^^ ^^*^ P^^^ty Aowers in 
usters, aU the way up to the seeon<i ^^'^ing about the bal- 
my window is a beautifril strij> ®^^^- I^irectlvl^ k 

fresh air comes in at the casern c^*^^ ^^^i^aivi*^,. ^eatn 

• 1 I. ^*^»it; la^^ l^araen, and the 
roses, carnation puiks, honeysix^j^l *^uen vsrJtl^ ^v 

beautiful flowers, which are bloonti ^®' ^"^^ a sen ^^^ ^^ 


robbing his quiver of its arrows : all around, the rocks looked 
out in curious, wild, and grotesque faces ; they leered from 
the crags, giinned from pebbles in the water, or frowned 
awfully from the gi'eat crags above the hunter, who, dazzled 
by the enchantress, sees nothing of this frightful scene, which 
is like the figures of a troubled dream — thoroughly phantas- 
magoric and German. Another picture shows a brave knight 
iust on the point of espousing a weird lady before an abbot, 
the Satanic glare of whose eyes betrays his infernal origin; 
cock-crow has evidently prevented these nuptials, as at ono 
side chanticleer is represented vigorously sounding his clarion, 
and in the foregi*ound lies another figure of the same knight 
in a deep sleep. Other scenes represent encounters of shep-' 
herds with beautiful water-sprites or Undines of the mountain 
lakes ancC rivers, knights at enchanted castles, and sprites in 
ruined churches, each one being the pictorial representation of 
some well-known legend of the vicinity. 

We arrived at Baden on Saturday, after dark, and I was 
roused Sunday morning to look out upon the scene I have 
described, by the music of a magnificent band, which com- 
menced with the grand h jTnn of Old Hundred ; then a piece 
from Handel; next came the grand Wedding March of 
Mendelssohn ; and we looked from our windows to see throngs 
of people promenac'^ng up and down the piazza in front of the 
Trink Halle, to the inspiriting harmony, or coming in every 
direction from the different 'hotels and pe^isionSy or boarding- 
houses, for their morning drink of spring-water. Gradually 
the music assumed a livelier character, till it wound up with 
sprightly quadiilles and a lively polka, played with a spirit 
that would almost have set an anchorite in a dancing fever. 

A fit illustration was this of the regard for the Sabbath in 
this headquarters of the enemy of man, where, at noon, tlie 
great doors of the gambling-house swung open, and tlie 
rouge-et^oir and roulette tables were at once thronged with 
players, without intermission, till midnight. 

This great gaming-houBC, which has been so often described, 
is styled the Conversation-haus, and is beautiftdly fit> jed up 


^^^ o;J"^»^v.. *^''^ 

**^ *t ^'e« »:*^v>» ^e-n:^ €^i 


<^''^'^NnJ ^t' 4*^^ V"^^5Xo^^'^"^• 
'"l0M '»1H^ '« H ^^s. ^v ^aw. **»e gold ® ''•a: 

^^^^^^^^ The only r^^ J« a 

^«i|;'^*lc.^^8Be88or conduct t^*"^ 


I have seen beautiful young ladies, scarce turned nineteen, 
8ea\ed here next their young husbands, with whom they were 
making their bridal tour, jostled by the elegant Parisian mem- 
ber of the demi-monde, whose noble " Mend " hands her a 
thousand francs to enjoy herself with for a while ; young 
students, trembling, eager old men ; raw Americans, taking 
a "flyer; " and sometimes astonishing the group by the mag- 
nitude of their bets ; old women, Russian counts, who com- 
mence by getting several notes changed into a big pile of 
gold, which steadily diminishes beneath the assaults they 
make on the bank, with as little effect as raw infantry char- 
ging against a fortified breastwork; nay, I even saw the 
sallow countenance of a Turk, looking on from beneath his 
fez cap, while its owner fumbled uneasily at his girdle till he 
had detached his puree, and gratified his curiosity by losing a 
few gold pieces ; professional gamblers, sharpers, women of 
uncertain character; old, young, and middle-aged, all sacrifi- 
cing at the same shrine. • 

"But some win?" 

Yes, and the very ones whose success is least expected. 
Old habitu68 will study the combination of figures for weeks, 
and keep a record of the numbers, and the order in which 
they turn up, and then, having, by mathematical certainty, 
made sure of lucky numbers, stake — and lose. The croupiers 
go on regularly, mechanically, and, unmoved by success or 
loss, or whatever takes place about them, they rake in heavy 
stakes, and pay out huge losses, without moving a muscle of 
their countenances, or betraying the least emotion, raking in 
a huge stake while I was watching the game that made even 
the old habitues glare at the player, without even so much as 
a glance at him, and paying out a big loss with only the 
simple dialogue, — 

" Billets du banqite?^ 

And a dozen rouleaux of twenty-franc pieces were pushed 
over to the winner. 
I saw one of these unexpected winners, in the person of a 


young Heidelberg student, who commenced with a couple of 
Napoleons (forty francs). He won ; doubled his stake, won 
again ; doubled, and won again ; then he took up the pile of 
gold, and placed two double Napoleons (eighty francs) on 
a single number; it came up, and the bank paid him the 
amount won, which was fifteen or twenty times the amount 
of his stake ; he put this whole heap on rouge (red), and the 
ball fell in rouge, and he won, and the amount was doubled ; 
he moved the increased heap to noir (black), and won again ! 
He pulled the heap of loose gold, rouleaux, and notes to- 
wards him ; players looked up, an obsequious ser\'ant brought 
a chair for him to sit down, and two or three fiiends gathered 
at his back ; he crammed gold and notes — all but five twenty- 
franc pieces — promiscuously into his pantaloons pocket, bet 
those five on the red, won ; moved the ten to the black, won 
again; the twenty to another figure, and won thrice his 

By this time other players began to follow him in their 
bets ; he put forty francs on a single number, and half a 
dozen players crowded their bets on to the same. 

It lost. 

Nothing daunted, they followed him, and rained down 
their Napoleons upon the black; this time they were re- 
warded ; black won. 

The student pocketed his heap of gold again, all except 
five pieces, and then Avith that capital bet again ; lost threo 
of the five ; tried a single number with one Napoleon, lost, 
of course ; put the other on the black, won again ; balanced 
the two pieces on his fingers for a moment, while half a 
dozen players were watching him, and then put one on the 
black again, which in an instant was almost obscured by 
the thick plating of metal that followed the lead of his stake 
from other players. 

^Rouge^ dix-huitP 

Down came the croupier's rake, and away rattled the glit- 
tering heap towards the banker, while the student smilingly 
balanced his remaining Napoleon in a sort of uncertain man- 


ner on his forefinger, then tnmed and whispered a word to 
his friends, rose and tossed the twenty francs magnificently 
to the servant who had handed him a chair, and who was 
still behind him, and then, with bulging pockets, walked 

Baden is beautifully situated, and its scenery and sur- 
roundings channing. A broad, well-kept, and shady avenue 
commences opposite our hotel, and affords a splendid drive 
of over two miles, and, like the drive at Newport, is fre- 
quented by gay equipages duiing the fashionable season. 
Then there are the old and new castles above the town, 
reached by winding and romantic roads, and from the summit 
of the former a fine view of the valley of the Rhine, and 
the beautiful valley of Baden, with its great hotels, elegant 
grounds, and pretty villas. 

The bazaar, a sort of open-air fair of booths, in a pleasant 
grove, not far from the grounds of the Conversation-haus, is 
another novelty, and an attractive one to foreigners ; for here 
is a collection of all those miscellaneous trinkets that tourists 
load themselves down with, such as carved wood of Switzer- 
land, garnets from Prague, worsted work from Berlin, shaded 
photographs from Munich, all sorts and kinds of sleeve-but- 
tons, breast-pins, shawl-pins, ivory carvings, ribbons, crystals 
from the Alps, leather work from Vienna, and a thousand 
and one curious and pretty articles to tempt the taste of 

We left the beautiful Hotel de I'Europe, with its pleasant 
rooms, elegant table d^hote^ and prompt attention, with 
regret, for two reasons : one, that it was so agreeable a place 
of rest ; and the other, that the price, at this most expensive 
of the hotels, with all its privileges, was less than two dollars 
per diem. 

Up and away, for we must see the grand old Cathedi*al of 
Strasburg — a two hours' journey; and here we are, at the 
magnificent portal of this edifice, founded by«old.King Clo- 
vis, in 510. The carvings above the portal are magnificent. 
Here are equestrian statues of Clovis, Dagobert, and other 


old worthies, elegantly iiTougbt, amid a wealth of rich tra- 
cery and carving; but as the spectator looks up, up, up, at 
the magnificent cathedral tower and spire, soaring away into 
the air till it seems to have a needle-like sharpness, he gets 
almost dizzy with gazing; and, upon being informed that the 
ascent of this highest spire in the world is not unattended 
with danger, of course all Americans are seized with an un- 
controllable desire to ascend it ; and so were we. 

So we took a look at the splendid front, with the two 
great square towers, something after the style of those of 
York Minster or Westminster Abbey, with a huge rose win- 
dow between them; the elegant Gothic architecture of 
arches^ pillars, and points ; the grand, arched poital, crowded, 
every inch of it, with carving and statues ; and finally, up 
again at the light steeple, which, from one of the square 
towers, rose into the air with such grace and boldness. 

We enter direct from the street, pay the custodian at the 
foot of a flight of stairs of easy ascent, and, ladies and all, 
begin the climb-up. We go till we have trodden over three 
hundred and thirty stairs, and find ourselves two hundred 
and thirty feet above the street, upon a place called the plat- 
form. Here are several rooms, and a custodian lives up here, 
who acts as a watchman for fires, has genc^ral charge of .the 
place, keeps a visitors' register, and sells stereoscopic views. 
The panoramic view from here is superb, and this point, 
which is about two thirds of the way up, is as high asjadies 
generally ascend ; for the remainder of the ascent, which is 
by circular staircases on four sides of the tower, requires 
some nerve and steadiness of head, the masonry being of 
open-work, with the apertures nearly large enough for the 
body to pass through, while the staircases, which are winding 
and narrow, are likely to provoke an attack of giddiness. I 
could compare the ascent to nothing but an ant climbing a 
corkscrew. Every turn brought us to these great wrought 
openings, which, from the ground, appeared like delicate lace- 
work, and which seemed to give one the feeling, as he went 
round and round, as if he were swinging and swaying in the 


network between heaven and earth; and the wind, which 
pipes, whistles, rashes, roars, and sighs, in every variety of 
tone, and apparently from every point of the compass, owing 
to the innumerable and different^shaped openings, adds to 
this illusion. 

Breathless, we reach a circular gallery running round out- 
side, and at the top of the square part of the steeple, and 
pause, clinging to the stone-work of the balustrade to look at 
the fine view, which takes in Baden, the Black Forest, the 
Rhine, and the chain of the Jura, in the distance. 

Still higher! Here we are at the base of a pyramid of 
light, ornamental turrets, which gradually converge towards 
a point, and support the "lantern" above us. The winding 
staircases in these turrets were also narrow, and through 
open stone-work, as before, till you reach the lantern, an en- 
closed observatory. Higher up is the " crown," which, as the 
steps leading to it are outside, and with no other protection 
than the wall to which they were fastened, we did not care 
to attempt. The total height of this lofty spire is four hun- 
dred and sixty-eight feet. 

The descent through the open-work spire to the platform 
where the ladies were left was far more trying to the nerves 
than the ascent. In ascending, one is continually looking up, 
and the open spaces in the stone-work have the appearance 
of passages through which you are to pass, but continually 
avoid by the winding of the stau'case ; but in descending, 
the gaze being directed downward, you have the vast height 
continually before the view ; the huge apertures, which appear 
at your very feet at every turn, seem like yawning crevasses, 
through which to shoot your body into the blue distance, or 
on to the Gothic points and pinnacles that are far, far below. 
I clung to the rope and iron hand-rails convulsively, and 
am not ashamed to mention that, more than once, as I came 
to the more elaborate open-work of this stone filigree, which 
seemed to dangle between heaven and earth, I closed my 
eyes, and followed the rail, feeling the way downwards. The 
descent was made almost in silence, and there was a sigh of 


relief when the platform was reached, and we joined the 
ladies again. 

The open-work that one encounters in the tun*ets during 
the ascent of the spire, although scarcely large enough to 
admit the passage of a man's body, is so ircquent, and so 
dii'ectly on the staircases, which are winding and naiTow, as 
to give the semblance of great danger and insecurity, though 
comparatively very little exists. The only thing to be feared 
is giddiness, which might render it difficult for the adventurer 
to go up or down, after reaching a certain point ; and it is, 
therefore, not advisable for those liable to be affected in that 
manner to attempt the ascent above the galleiy, which really 
adds very little to the view. 

Viewed architecturally, Strasburg Cathedral seems to bring 
together- all the styles or orders of architecture of the mid- 
dle ages, ii'om the simplicity of the Byzantine to tlie Gothic, 
with its arches and excess of supei-fluous ornament. The 
facade of the church, and especially the portal, is so elab- 
orately ornamented with carved work as to convey the im- 
pression of chasing, instead of sculpture. The figures in 
bass-relief and carving represent scenes in the life of the 
Saviour, the saints, and the apostles, besides statues of kin^ 
and warriors. 

A view of the interior is grand and impressive. Fourteen 
great cluster pillars uphold the lofty Gothic arched roof, over 
a hundred feet above the pavement. Midway, and above 
arches that unite the pillai*s, is a beautiful Gothic gallery 
on both sides, and many of the great stained-glass windows, 
representing scriptural subjects, are of wondrous beauty. 

In the nave is a beautiful pulpit, built in 1486, and covered 
with little statues, delicately carved, and not far from it the 
organ, up midway between the floor and arched ceiling. The 
perspective view in these old cathedrals is grand, and figui*es 
hardly give one an idea of their vastness. This cathedral is 
five hundred and twenty-five feet long, one hundred aud 
ninety-five feet in width, and is one of the finest of those 
wonderful monimients of religious art that rose during the 
middle ages. 


The great astronomical clock here is a curious and wonder- 
ful piece of mechanism. Fancy a structure twenty-five or 
thirty feet in height, and twelve or fifteen broad at the base, 
having on either side two othera nearly of equal height, one 
being the masonic flight of winding stairs, surmounted by five 
small emblematical Corinthian pillars, and the other a Gothic 
pillar, its panellings enriched with figures. 

Placed dh-ectly in iront of the base of the clock is a celes- 
tial globe, which, by means of the clock-work, shows the 
precession of the equinoxes, solar and lunar equations for 
calculating geocentric ascension and declination of the sun 
and moon at true times and places. Then in the base itself 
is an orrery after the Copemican system, by which the mean 
tropical revolution of each of the planets, visible to the naked 
eye, is shown. Then comes an ecclesiastical calender, a sort 
of perpetual almanac, indicating holy, feast, and fast days; 
above, and about ten feet from the floor, and just beneath the 
clock-dial, is an opening with a platform in front, upon which 
come forth figures representing each day of the week, as 
Apollo on Tuesday, Diana on Monday, &c. Thus a figure in 
a chariot representing the day appeared at the entrance in the 
morning, it had reached the centre in full view by noon, and 
drove gradually out of sight at the close of day. On either 
side of the clock-dial sat two Cupids, the size of a three-years- 
old child, one holding a bell and hammer, with which it strikes 
the hours and quarters, and the other an hour-glass, which it 
reverses each hour. Above is another dial, with the signs of 
the zodiac ; above that a figure of the moon, showing its dif 
ferent phases, also put in motion by the clock-work ; and, still 
above this, two sets of automaton figures, which appear only 
at twelve o'clock, at which time there is always a crowd 
gathered to witness their performance. 

We viewed this wondrous piece of mechanism for an hour, 
and witnessed the following movements: At quarter past 
eleven the Cupid near the dial struck one ; then from one of 
the upper compartments ran forth the figure of a little child 
with a wand, and as he passed he struck one on a bell, and 



ran away (Childhood, the first quarter). Round whirl the 
wheels of time, and the second quartef chimes ; but this time 
it is Youth that p^ses, and taps the bell with his shepherd's 
staff twined with flowers. Again, we reach the third quarter, 
and Manhood strides forth, the mailed warrior, and smites 
the sonorous bell, ei*e he leaves the scene, three sSunding 
blows with his trenchant weapon — the third quarter. Once 
more, the hands tremble on the point of noon; the fourth 
quarter is here, and Old Age, a feeble, bent figure, hobbles 
out, pauses wearily at the bell, raises a crutch, and taps four 
strokes, and totters away out of sight— "last scene of all," 
when, as a finale, the skeleton figure of Death, before whom 
all the four have passed, slowly raises liis baton, which the 
spectator now discovers to be a human bone, and solemnly 
strikes the hour of twelve upon the bell. While he is en- 
gaged in this act, a set of figures above him, representing the 
twelve apostles, pass in procession before the Saviour, who 
blesses each as they pause before him in turn, and chanticleer, 
the size of life, perched upon the pinnacle of one of the side 
structures, lifts up his voice in three rousing crows, with out- 
stretched neck and flapping wings, while the Cupid on one 
side of the dial reverses the hour-glass for the sand to flow 
back, and the other also strikes the hour with his bell and 

Not far from this clock, in a sort of niched window, there is 
a sculptured figure, said to be that of the architect of this 
cathedral, represented as looking towards the entrance of 
the transept, and in such position as to attract attention and 
provoke inquiry — a cunning device for perpetuating one's 
memory as long as the figure shall last. 

Before leaving this fine cathedral we are reminded of the 
ancient order of Masons by an enclosure opening out of one 
of the chapels, which is the area of the workhouse of the 
stone-cutters of the edifice. These Master Masons down to 
this day form a particular and exclusive society, which origi- 
nated in the days of the great master mason and architect of 
this cathedral, Erwin of Steinbach, who rebuilt the nave in 


idea iSi^Va 

Wernmeirt or 
tnat ocoaa\on 
"«g, in ^hi„t 

I hero tUl the 

- wm tid adieu 

»^'- it, ttongh 

*s one of the 

Btreeta wre se« 

•^ percUoA oi» » 

^^ ^^^ 

ookei ^-i,^" t„«^ 
BpUn«^L»i) % the 
flat •»»»'■»• „,>)». 


tie Ji.«^"^- 


of which opened on th^ river bank ; and while thirty pieceib 
of music played grand compositions, sprightly waltzes, or in- 
spiriting marches, we sat at the little tables, with hnndceds of 
other listeners, who sipped light wines or beer, enjoyed the 
evening air, and looked out upon the dark cathedral towers, 
the lights of the town reflected in the swift stream of the 
Rhine, watched the small boats continually passing and re- 
passing, marked " the light drip of the suspended oar,*' com- 
ing pleasantly to the ear, as they paused to listen to the mel- 
ody, while now and then the tall, dark form of some great 
Dutch lugger-looking craft of a Rhine boat moved past, like a 
huge spectre out of the darkness — a dreamy sort of scene, 
the realization of old Dutch paintings, half darkened with 
age, that I have often gazed at when a boy. And all this 
fine music and pleasant lounge for half a fii'anc (eleven cents). 

"Wines extra?'' 

Yes. We called for a half flask, prime quality ; price, a 
franc and a half more ; total, forty-four cents. But then we 
were luxurious ; for beer that was ^magnifiqtie^ could be had 
in a ^gro8 pot^^ for three cents. 

We rode from Basle to Zurich in a luxurious, easy, comfort- 
able drawing-room car, which a party of us — six American 
tourists — had all to ourselves, and whirled through long tun- 
nels, and amid lovely scenery, in striking contrast to our hot, 
uncomfortable railroad ride from Strasburg to Basle. The 
Swiss railway carriages are on the American plan, and the 
line of the road itself kept in exquisite order. The houses of 
the switchmen were pretty little rustic buildings, covered with 
running flowering vines, plats of flowers before them, and not 
a bit of rubbish or a speck of dirt to be seen about them. 
The little country stations are neatly kept, and have flower 
gardens around them ; and, as we passed one crossing where 
two roads met, a diamond-shaped plat, about twenty feet 
space, enclosed by the crossing of three tracks, was brilliant 
with its array of red, blue, and yellow flowers. At the sta- 
tions and stopping-places there seemed to be special pains 
taken to keep the rude, unsightiy objects, that are seen at 


stations in America lying about uncared for, out of sight. 
Here, and in Germany, we notice the red poppy scattered in 
and growing among the wheat, which one would suppose 
must injure the grain ; but the people say not, though it im- 
paits, I think, a slightly perceptible bitter taste to the bread. 

We seem now to have got thoroughly into a land where 

they know how to treat travellers, that is, properly appreciate 

Uhe value of tourist patronage, and treat them accordingly ; 

and well they may, for a large portion of the Swiss people 

make their living for the year off summer tourists. 

Notwithstanding this, and notwithstanding the English 
grumblers who scold at these better hotels, better railway 
accommodations, and better attention than they can get any- 
where else, — notwithstanding the shoddy Americans, whose 
absurd parade, lavish expenditure of mone^, ignorance, and 
boorinh manners make them a source of mortification to edu- 
cated men, and have served, in France and Italy during the 
past few years, almost to double certain travelling expenses, 
-^ notwithstanding this, the traveller will be more honorably 
dealt with, and less liable to be cheated, in Switzerland than 
elsewhere in Europe. Efforts are made to induce travellers 
to come often, and stay long. Roads, passes, and noted points 
are made as accessible as possible, and kept in good order 
during the season. No impositions are allowed by guides, 
post-drivers, Ac, and the hotel-keepers strive in every way to 
make their houses as attractive as possible in every respect to 
the guest, who enjoys the real luxury of an elegant hotel, in 
an attractive or celebrated resort, at a reasonable price, and 
does not suffer to that extent the same irritation that he ex- 
periences in England or America at such places — of knowing 
he is being deliberately swindled in every possible manner. 

Here we are in Zurich, — "by the margin of Zurich's fair 
waters," — at the Hotel Baur au Lac, fronting Lake Zurich — 
a large and beautiful hotel, with an extensive garden, with 
flowers, shrubs, and pretty walks in front of it. Our windows 
command a full view of the beautiful lake, with its sides en- 
livened with chalets, villages, vineyards, and a highly-(nilti 

874 zuBicH A2n> its bcenbbt. 

Tated country, while in the backgroimd rise the snow peaks 
of the Alps, glittering in the morning sunlight, or rosy in its 
parting rays. There was the great Reiseltstock, looming up 
over eighty-six hundred feet, the Kammtistock, very nearly 
ten thousand feet, between which and the Scheerhom is im- 
bedded a great glacier, the Bristenstock, and other ^ stocks " 
and " horns ** that I have not noted down, and therefore for- 
gotten, save that even in the distance they looked magnifi- 
cently grand, and like great altars with their snowy coverings 
Ufled up to heaven. 

The scenery of mountain, lake, and valley, seen fi*om the 
promenades in Zurich, like grand pictures framed in the rim 
of the horizon, and presenting charming aspects, varied by the 
setting sun, give the tourist a foretaste of the picturesque 
beauty of the country he is now just entering. Lake Zurich, 
or 'the Zuricher See, as they call it, looked so pretty and 
romantic that we determined to embark on one of the little 
steamboats, and sail up and down it, to know and enjoy it 
better. So, after enjoying the creature comforts of the fine 
hotel, and fortified with a good night's rest, we embarked in 
the morning. 

This lake is twenty-five miles long, and, at its broadest part, 
two and a half miles wide. As we sailed along, we noted the 
beautiful slopes of the hills, which are finely cultivated at the 
base, close down to the little villages on the shore. Above 
are vineyards and orchards, and still farther up, the dark- 
green forests clothe the hills, which lift their frontlets twenty- 
five hundred feet above the clear mirror that reflects them on 
its surface. We passed numerous picturesque little villages, 
making landings on alternate shores as we proceeded. Here 
was Thalwyl, charmingly situated, Horgen, with its hotel and 
charming garden upon the lake front, the picturesque little 
wooded peninsula of Au, and a pretty little village of Manne- 
dorf, behind which rises a romantic height, called some sort 
of a^stiel** or "horn.** And so we glided along, sometimes 
stopping at little villages that seamed, as we approached 
them, children's toys upon a green carpet, this effect height- 


ened by the huge mountains, which rose grand and sublime in 
the distance; but they had all that novelty. so charming to 
the tourist — their odd-shaped little churches, and curious 
and quaint houses nestling in romantic nooks, and the occa- 
sional odd dress worn by peasants who had come down from 
the interior, and the customs which to us seemed so old- 

We found our steamer was a mail-boat, and at one station, 
instead of the usual official in waiting, the sole occupant of 
the little pier was a huge Newfoundland dog, who seized the 
^ little mail-pouch, holding, perhaps a couple of quarts, that was 
tossed ashore, and galloped off with it at full speed for the 
village, half a mile distant, to the infinite amusement of the 
spectators. He was the regular mail-carrier, perfonning the 
service twice a day of bringing down the mail-pouch, which 
he deposited on the pier on the arrival of the boat, and can-y- 
Ing back the one which was left by it. 

We went on shore at a town bearing the delightfiiUy- 
euphonious name of Rapperschwyl — a picturesque old place, 
with an old castle and church, and wooded heights, which 
command fine views. At this point a fine bridge, forty-five 
hundred feet long, and supported by one hundred and eighty 
oaken pillars, crosses the lake. So we strolled over it, and 
through the town, which contains about two thousand inhab- 
itants, looked at the old church and castle, and then reem- 
barked on the return steamer, once more to admire the beauty 
of the sceneiy of the lake shores in this romantic region, and 
birthplace of Switzerland's freedom. 



Now let us tighten our gii'dles for our first experience in 
Swiss mountain-climbing, for we start for Righi at nine A. M<^ 
on the summit of which we propose to see the sun set, and 
watch his rising on the morrow. Out of the handsome rail- 
way station we ride in an elegant and comfortable car, and 
in two hours are at the steamboat landing at Lake Zug, one 
of the most picturesque sheets of water in Switzerland — an 
azure pond nine miles in length ; and, as we float upon its 
blue bosom, we see the object of our excursion, Righi-Kulm, 
which towers full forty-two hundred feet above the lake. 
The " Righi " consists of a group of mountains lying between 
the three Swiss lakes of Zug, LuceAe, and Lowerz, and " Righi- 
Kulm " is the Righi summit, or highest peak — fifty-five hun- 
dred and forty feet above the level of the sea. We disem- 
bark at Arth, get a bad dinner, or lunch, of tough chicken, 
poor soup, and bad claret, and start away for the foot of the 
mountain in an open carriage, with our saddle horses, mules, 
and guides rattling along behind us, for the ascent. Half an 
hour brings us to Goldau. 

Goldau ! And as I stood on the high road, and looked 
over into what was once the little valley where stood the vil- 
lage, and marked the track of the tremendous avalanche of a 
thousand feet broad and a hundred feet thick, whiQh started 
three thousand feet above, from the mountain, on its resistless 
career of destruction, my memory went back to days in the 
public schools of Boston, where, from that best of compilations 
as a school reader, John Pierpont's American First Class 
Book, we used to read the ^ Lament of a Swiss Minstrel over 
the Ruins of Goldau," commencing, — 

" O Switzerland, my country, 'tis to tliee 
I strike my harp in agony, — " 










^id jr^V"^ "^ 




the call 



*«'aj'b; *:*'«« 





the ^ H ». ^ ^Ve . ^^o*.^ ^ ^ 

^^^ ^ 



ej-e n. *'«iC^«' 

«,r^ ^'>«- hoi 

P ^ui- J^ *^av«i ^iJtK ^^f- 




Ojx _*'^1.^^**<J 




hJ^^^JlCe. > >> ^^K ^t^^ ^ V ®^ fee/ 






y^ho makea 
passes wiU n^^ 


r the 

AS ] 




and in many pa rts of the country they seem to be f(>nned into 
associations, and nnder the best of regulations to prevent any 
imposition upon travellers, or the employment of unskilled 

As an illustration of the excellence of their regulations, we 
copy a few of those of the Righi guides : — 

'' The horses must be sound and strong, the gear in good 
order. The chief of guides, who holds office under the super- 
intendence of the burgomaster, is responsible for the obser- 
vance of the regulations; and he shall maintain order among 
the guides, render assistance to travellers, and inform against 
any infi'action of the rules. Guides are forbidden to impor- 
tune travellers. Civility and sobriety are strictly enjoined, and 
guides are personally responsible for luggage intrusted to 
them. Guides are forbidden to ask for gratuities in excess of 
the regular tariff. The chief of guides has sole right to 
offer horses to tourists, without, however, dictating their 
choice," &c. 

Having procured our alpenstocks, we follow on over the 
broad, pleasant road of the first part of the ascent, through 
the woods, hearing the voices of our fellow-tourists, and now 
and then catching a glimpse of them, as they zigzag across 
the hill-side, and beat gradually up its steiep height ; we begin 
to come to the little mountain waterfalls, foaming and tum- 
bling over the rocks on their way to feed the lake below ; pass 
through scenery of the character not unlike the commence- 
ment of the ascent of Mount Washington, in New Hamp- 
shire, until finally we reach a halting-place — "Righi Inn.'' 
Bread, cheese — pahl the very smell of it caused all to 
beat a retreat; and the inevitable Swiss honey, and good 
French wine, were offered here. Causing a removal of the 
cheese, we refreshed ourselves with the bread, wine, and 
honey, and, with renewed vigor, pushed on. 

Now the path is more open, we pass little crosses, or pray- 
ing-places, and can see them at intervals up the mountain ; 
they mark the halting^places of pilgrims to a little chapel 
above us, known as the chapel of " Our Lady of the Snow;" 
and their frequency does not argue so mudi in i&vor of the 


enclarance oi* the pilgrims' powers of wind and mnscle ms it 
does of their devotion. This little chapel is inhabited by Gap- 
nchin monks, was built in 1689, and pilgrimages are generally 
made to it and Mass celebrated once a year. 

After aboat two hoars' climbing we find ourselves at a 
place called Oberes Dachli, and half way up the ascent ; now 
we leave the woods below, and begin to have a view of huge 
peaks rising all about us ; as we mount still higher, the air 
grows pure, bracing, and invigorating. Pedestrip-ns think 
climbing the Alps is pastime, songs are sung with a will, and 
American songs, especially the choruses, make the guides 
stare with astonishment. 

Hurrah ! Here is Righi Stafiel, four thousand nine hundred 
feet above the level of the sea, and a good hour's pull from 
our last halt ; and now our guides lead us out to a sort of 
bend in the pathway, and we begin to see what we have 
dimbed to enjoy. From this bend, which overhangs, and 
seems to form, as it were, a sort of proscenium box of the 
scene, we look down on the grand view below us — Lake 
Lucerne, Arth, the road we have passed, the mountains swell- 
ing blue in the distance. 

What beautiful views we have had as we ascended ! An 
attempt at description would be but a series of riiapsodies. 
Let any one who has seen the view from the Catskill Moun- 
tains imagine the scene filled in with eight Swiss lakes shining 
in the sunUght, dozens of Swiss villages in the valleys, chap- 
els on the mountain-sides, ribbons of rivers sparkling in the 
distance, the melodious tinkle of cow-bells from the many 
herds on the mountain-sides below, coming up like the faint 
notes of a musical box, and the whole framed by a lofty chain 
of mountain peaks, that seem to rim in the picture in a vast 
oval. The view changed twenty times in the ascent, and a 
faint idea may be had of its grandeur and beauty. 

^ But wait till you reach the Eulm, if you want to see a 
view," says one, pointing to the tip-top hotel of the mountain, 
on its great platform above us. 

** Will monsieur ride now ? ^ 


** Pshaw! No." 

The rest of the distance is so short — just up thCTe— that 
monsieur, though breathless and fatigued, will do no such 
thing, and so sits down on a broad, flat stone, to look at the 
view and recover wind for the last brief " spurt," as he thinks ; 
and the guide, with a smile, starts on. 

We have learned a lesson of the deceptive appearance of 
distance in the mountains, for w^hat appeared at most a ten 
minutes' journey, was a good half hour's vigorous climb 
before the hotel of Righi-Kulm was gained ; and we stood 
breathless and exhausted in the portico, mentally vowing 
never to attempt mountain climbing on foot when horses 
could be had — a vow with which, perhaps, the last portion of 
the journey over a path made slippery by a shower, making 
the pedestrian's ascent resemble that of the arithmetical frog 
in the well, whose retrogression amounted to two thirds of 
his progression, had something to do — and a vow which, it 
is unnecessary to say, was not rigidly adhered to. 

But Righi-Kulm was gained. Here we were, at a large, 
well-kept hotel. The rattle of the French, German, Italian, and 
English tongues tells us that Switzerland has attractions for 
all nations, and the fame of her natural scenery attracts all 
to worship at its shrine. A brief rest, after our neaiiy four 
hours' journey, and we are called out, one and all, to see the 
sun set. Forth we went, and mounted on a high, broad plat- 
form, a great, flat, table-like clif^ which, when contemplating 
the scene below, I could liken only to a Titanic sacrificial 
altar, erected to the Most High, it jutted out so towards 
heaven, with all the world below it. 

But were we to be disappointed in the sunset ? 

Look I huge clouds are rising ; one already veils the sun, 
its edges crimsoned, and its centre translucent. A moment 
more and the cloudy veil is torn aside as by the hand of a 
genie, and as the red rays of the great orb of day blaze into 
our faces like a huge conflagration, a universal burst of admi- 
ration follows at' one of the grandest and most magnificent 
views the eye of man can look upon. The sudden efiect of 


the sunburst revealed a spectacle that was like a visiou oi 
the promised land. 

We realized now how " distance lends enchantment to the 
view.'' That blue atmosphere of distance, that seems to 
paint everything with its softening finish, is exquisite here. 
Lake Lucerne was at our very feet, and looked as though we 
might toss a pebble into it ; eight other lakes, calm and still, 
and looking like polished blue steel plates resting in the land- 
scape, flashed m the sunbeams, the little water-craft like motes 
upon their surface ; silver ribbons of rivers glittered on the 
bosom of the mountains like necklaces, while villages a2> 
peared like pearls scattered on the dai-k-green carpet below, 
and we looked right through a great rainbow, "' the half of the 
signet ring of the Almighty," at one, and the landscape about 
it — a singular and beautiful effect. Villages, lakes, land- 
scapes were seen, as it were, through a river of light in a 
great panorama of hundreds of miles in extent, forming a 
view the grandeur and splendor of which it is impossible to 

But while we are looking at this wondrous picture, the sun 
sinks lower, and we raise our gaze to the grand chain of 
mountains, whose edges are now fringed with fire, or their 
snow* peaks glowing in rose tints, sending back reflections 
from their blue glaciers, or sparkling in the latent rays. 

There rises the great chain of Bernese Alps. 

There are mountains — eight, ten, twelve thousand feet 
into the air. How sharply they are printed against the sky ! 
and how they roll away off* towards the horizon in a great 
billowy swell, till lost in the far distance, the white-topped 
peak of one tall sentinel just visible, touched by the arrowy 
beam of the sun that glances from his icy helmet ! 

Look which way you may, and a new scene of surpassing 
beauty chams the attention. Here rises rugged old Pilatus, 
almost from the bosom of Lake Lucerne; beyond Lucerne, the 
whole canton is spread out to view, with a little river crin- 
kling through it, like a strip of silver bullion thread ; away ofi^ 
at one side, the top of the Cathedral of Zurich catches the 


eye; down at oar very feet, on the lake, is a little speck — 
Tell's Chapel ; right around us rise the Righi group of moun 
tains, green to their summits, and in contrast to the perpetual 
snow mantles of the distant Bernese. But the sun, which has 
been like a huge glittering and red, flashing shield, is now 
only showing a flaming edge of Are behind the apparently 
tallest peak, making it look like the flame bursting from a 
volcano ; the landscape is deepening in' huge shadows, which 
we can see are cast by the mountains, half obscuring it from 
view ; the blaze is fiunter — it is extinguished ; a few moments 
of red, fiery glow where it sank, and anon a great, rushing 
group of clouds, and the blackness of night closes in, and the 
fierce rush of the Alpine wind is upon us. 

We turned and groped our way back to the house, whose 
brightly-lighted windows spoke of comfort within ; and round 
the board at the meal, which served alike for dinner and sup- 
per, we exhausted the vocabulary of terms of admiration 
over the grand spectacle we had just witnessed, which 
seemed worth a journey across the Atlantic to see. 

At the supper table, we fraternize with other Americans 
from different parts of our country ; and even the reserved 
and reticent Englishman finds it pleasant to converse, or 
address a few words to those he has not been introduced to, 
it is ^so pleasant to talk one's own language, you know.'' 
Out in a little sanded sitting-room, where cigars and warming 
fluids were enjoyed before retiring, the attention of us Amer- 
icans was attracted to an old and familiar friend, whose un- 
looked-for presence in this quarter was no less surprising 
than it was gratifying to our national pride. It was nothing 
more nor less than a print of Trumbull's well-known picture 
of the Battle of Bunker Hill, suspended' over the mantel- 
piece. There were General Warren, falling into the arms of 
the shirt-sleeved soldier, and the British captain, pushing 
aside the bayonets that were thrust at his prostrate figure. 
There was Pitcaim, falling backwards fix>m the redoubt, shot 
dead in the moment of victory by the colored soldier in the 
foreground. And there was old Putnam, waving his swori 


over hig head at the adyancmg grenadiers — the very same 
old picture that every one of ns had seen in our histories and 
.geographies in school-boy days. 

**The thing was neither rich nor rare, 
But how the devil it got there," 

away up at the top of one of the Alps, was the wonder. 

However, it is not to be wondered at that, after its dis- 
covery, the toast of America and Switzerland was drank, 
with all the honors. Now that the night had come down, 
we could hear the mountain wind roaring around the house, 
as if it were clamoring for admittance ; but the great dining- 
hall was full of light and cheerfulness ; tourists of different 
nationalities recounted their adventures in little groups, and 
the Swiss carved work, which was brought out and spread 
upon the tables for sale, found many purchasers among those 
who desired to preserve a memento of their visit to the top 
of Mount Rhigi. 

We were warned to retire early, as all would be roused at 
four A. M., next morning, to witness a sunrise, which we were 
assured was infinitely more grand than sunset. 

It was easier for me to get to bed than to sleep. The 
fatigue of « the climb, the bracing effect of the atmosphere, 
the remembrance of the superb panorama, and, besides this, 
the rush, roar, and whistle of the mountain breeze which rat- 
tled at the casement, all served to banish sleep from my eyes 
till the time arrived when the horn should have sounded for 
sunrise; but it did not, because of the thick clouds, as I 
heard from the few restless ones who clattered through the 
corridors ; and so, relieved of the expectancy of the call, I 
sank into slumber, broken only by morning's light, although 
thick clouds veiled the god of day from view. 

There appeared no prospect of clear weather; and so, after 
a late breakfast, our horses were ordered, and we began the 
descent, which, for the first half hour, was damp and cheerless 
enough, and made the coats and water-proofs we had been 
thoughtful enough to bring comfortable accessories. But, sm 


we were slowly winding down the mountain, the clouds began 
to break ; the wind had changed ; gap after gap waa rent in 
the vapor, which was rolled off at one side in great heaps ; 
the bright blue sky looked through the rifts, and the land- 
scape began to come out in great patches below ; away went 
the clouds ; what had seemed a great, dull curtain was broken 
up into sheets of billowy mist and huge patches of vapor, 
slowly rolling away in the distance, or heaping up in silvery 
banks ; and below once more came out the blue, quiet lakes, 
the white villages, and the lovely landscape, while above, 
even above the clouds themselves, would start great peaks, 
round which they clung like fleecy garlands. 

The rain-drops sparkled on the grass and bushes as I sat 
on a projecting cliff gazing at the scene, and the train of my 
companions wound out of sight, their voices growing fainter 
and fainter, till lost in the distance, and all was silent. 
There was no song of bird, or chirp of insect — a mountaiii 
solitude of stillness unbroken, when just below me came up 
that peci^liar and melodious cry of the Alpine shepherd, 
" Ye-o^o-o-leo-leo-leo-ye-ho-le-o," echoing and winding among 
the mountains, clear and bell-like, as it floated away. 

The yodlyn ! and this was the first time I had ever heard 
it in Switzerland. 

But listen ! 

Above where I stand comes a reply, clear aird musical, 
mell6wed by distance, the curious falsetto, the " yo-e-ho-o-leo," 
is returned, and scarcely ceases ere taken up, away across the 
valley, by an answering voice, so faint in the distance that it 
quavers like a flute on the ear. And so the herdsmen in 
these solitudes call and answer one another during their 
joumeyings, or their lonely hours in the mountains. 

Now we wind down, through trees, herbage, and wild 
flowers. Here is an ocean of white and buff garden helio- 
tropes, monkshood, handsome lilac candytuft, and a flower 
in abundance which very much resembles the Mexican age- 
ratum. Now we come to a broad sort of open field, and a 
chalety where we halted, and rested upon rustic seats at the 


door, while the horses were baited. While we sat here, the 
officions host bianded our Alpine stocks with the names of 
Goldau and Righi, showing that we had passed those points. 
At this place, the open field was rich in sweet red-clover, 
and pretty little flowers, like dwarfed sweet-peas. As we 
rode on, the air was melodious with the tinkling of the bells 
of the mountain herds, and the woods and fields rich in wild 
white roses and numerous other flowers. 

At length we reached Kusnacht, on Lake Lucerne ; and, em- 
banking on a little steamboat, we glided along past the beauti- 
ful slopes of the Righi range, having a fine view of the 
frowning peak of Pilatus, and some towering snow-clads in 
the distance. Finally we rounded a point, and there lay 
Lucerne, in a sort of natural amphitheatre, fi*onting on the 
blue lake, and between the Righi and Pilatus on cither 
side. Upon the whole length of the long quay is a broad 
avenue of shady chestnut trees ; then, strung all along be- 
hind it, are the great hotels ; and in the background, running 
over on the heights above the town, are the walls and watch- 
towers, the whole forming a most charming and picturesque 

The steamer glides up to the stone pier almost opposite to* 
the great hotel, where our rooms had been engaged and lug* 
gage forwarded, and in a few minutes more the ofiicious por- 
tors have us domiciled in fine apartments in the ^ Schweizer- 
hoff*," where we proceed to remove the stains of travel and 
mountain climbing, enjoy the luxury of a good bath, and in^ 
other ways prepare for the table d^hote. 

The Schweizerhofl* is a splendid hotel, and, with its depen- 
dencies, accommodates some three hundred or more guests. 
It is admirably kept, the rooms clean, well furnished, and 
airy, and the front commanding a superb view of the lake,. 
Mount Pilatus, Righi, and a whole range of Alps, green hill- 
sides, rocky crags, or great snow-clads, running up five, six,, 
seven, and eight thousand feet high. A picture it seemed 
we could never tire gazing at, as we sat at our windows look* 
ing at them, and the blue lake, with its steamboats coming 



and going, row-boats and pleasure sail-boats gliding hither 
and thither. In this house is a reading-room lor ladies and 
gentlemen, with English, French, German, and Italian news* 
papers, books and magazines, a billiard-room, pretty garden, 
and great dining-room, with conservatory at one end of it, 
filled with plants and birds. A fountain in the room spouts 
and flashes merrily during the dinner hour, and a band of 
music plays. There are waiters and porters who speak 
French, German, Italian, and English, and hearing the latter 
spoken on every side so frequently, seeing so many Ameri- 
cans, and the ladies going through with the usual display of 
dress and flirtations as at home, it was difficult to imagine 
that we were not at some Saratoga, or Newport, and that 
a few hours by rail would not bear us to Boston or New 

The sights in Lucerne are few and easily seen, the princi- 
pal attraction being the loveUness of the situation. The 
River Reuss emerges from the lake at this point, and rushes 
off at a tremendous rate, and two of the curious old wooden 
bridges that span it are filatures of the place ; they are roofed 
over and partially enclosed. In the inner triangular com- 
partments of the roof of the longest are a series of over a 
hundred pictures, illustrating scenes in the lives of saints and 
in the history of Switzerland ; in the other the Dance of Death 
is quaintly and rudely depicted; picturesque old places these 
bridges, cool and shady for a summer afremoon's ntroll. 

The great attraction in the old cathedral in Lucerne is the 
fine organ, which all visitors go to hear played ; and we strolled 
in on a quiet summer's evening, after dinner, to listen to it- 
The slanting beams of the sun gleamed through the stained- 
glass windows, and lighted up some of the old carved wood 
reliefs of the stalls in the chm*ch, as we took our seats, with 
some fifty or sixty other tourists, here and there in the body 
of the house; and soon the music began. First there were 
two or three hynms, whose pure, simple melody was given 
with a grace and delicacy that seemed to carry their sacred 
sentiment to the very heart; from these the perfonner burst 


Into one of the grandest performances of Mendelssohn's Wed- 
ding March I ever listened to. There was the full band, 
with hautboy, flute, clarinet, and trumpet accompaniment, in- 
troducing perfect solo obligates, and closing with the full, 
grand sweep of melody, in which, amid the blending of all in 
one grand haimonious whole, the strains of each were dis- 
tinguishable, perfect, pure, and faultless. The liquid ripple of 
the flute, the blare of the trumpet, and the mellow murmur 
of the clarinet, till the march arose in one grand volume 
of harmony that made the vaulted arches of the old cathedral 
ring again, and it seemed as if every nook and comer was 
filled with exultant melody. It was a glorious performance, 
and I felt like leaping to my feet, swinging my hat, and shout- 
ing. Bravo ! when it was finished. 

But, if this was glorious, the last piece, which represented 
a thimder storm amid the Alps, was little short of marvel- 
lous, and may be regarded as a masterpiece of organ-playing. 
It commenced wilh a beautiful pastoral introduction; this 
was succeeded by the muttering of distant thunder, the fitful 
gusts of a gradually rising tempest, the sharp shirr of the 
wind, and the very rattling and trickling of the rain drops ; 
mountain streams could be heard, rushing, swollen into tor- 
rents ; the mutter of the tempest increased to a gradual and 
rising roar of wind ; a resistless rush of rain was heard, that 
made the spectator look anxiously towards church windows, 
and feel nervous that he had no umbrella. Finally the txe- 
mendous tempest of the Alps seemed to shake the gvea 
cathedral, the winds howled and sbxieked, the laiti beat^ 
rushed, and came down in torrents* the toot of tlieswo ^^ 
mountain streams was heard \)etwpeli ^^ tetnfie Y^^.^_ ^ 
thunder that reverberated anxong^ ^°^"'ittS,tU 
hundred echoes, and one of ♦!>,.«„ \..rt>'> ^^^. ^v «!t o\oset 
betokens the falling bolt, made ' S^ ***'' 
to her protector, with an invol» ^'^'^ **^ . A^®*' , ,^ ftesfveriX, 

But anon the thunder peal **^ ^^ \x0 * L\««^*'^''^ 
and rolled sloirJjandgrandi ** grev l^^ i,t>^ \^ o1 <!oft «''*'*' 
heavy reverberstiowi hetMr^^ ^^ amoO^ -i^o- 

888 woinDXBFUL obgak platikg. 

tain atreams and the rattle of the brooks were heard, till final* 
ly the peak of heaven's artillery died away entirely, the 
streams rushed less fiercely, and the brooks purled over the 
pebbles. Then, amid the subsiding of the tempest, the notes 
of a little organ, which had been heard only at intervals dur- 
ing the war of elements, became more clear and distinct : 
now, as the thunder ceased and the rush of rain was over, 
you heard it as in some distant convent or chapel among the 
mountains, and there arose a chant so sweet, so clear, so 
heavenly as to seem hardly of this earth — a chant of nuns 
before their altar; anon it increased in volume as tenor, alto, 
and even the full bass of monkish chant joined, and the whole 
choir burst into a glorious hymn of praise. 

The audience were breathless as they listened to the chant 
of this invisible choir, whose voices they could distinguish in 
sweet accord as they arose and blended into a great anthem, 
and then gradually faded in the distance, as though the meek 
sisterhood were gliding away amid their cloisters, and the 
Voices of the procession of hooded monks ceased one after 
the other, as they sought the quiet of their cells. The chant 
dropped away, voice by voice, into silence ; all ceased but the 
little chapel organ accompaniment, which lingered and qua- 
vered, till, like a last trembling seraph breath, it faded away 
in the still twilight, and — the performance was over. 

There was full a moment's spell-bound hush among the 
listeners after its conclusion, and then followed one universal 
burst of admiration and applause in half a dozen different 
languages. Some of the ladies of our party, not dreaming of 
the wonders of the vox humana stop, desired to see the choir 
that sang so sweetly ; and to gratify them we ascended to 
the organ gallery, where, to their surprise, we met the sole 
performer on the WDnderful instrument to which they had 
listened, in the person of an old German, with scattered gray 
hairs peeping out beneath his velvet skull-cap, wearing black 
knee-breeches and silk stockings, and shoes with broad buckles 
— a perfect old virtuoso in appearance, and a genuine musical 
enthusiast, trembling with pleasure at our praise, and his eyes 
glistening with tears at our admiration of his marvellous skilL 


The lion of Laceme is, in fact, literally the lion ; that is, 
the celebrated lion sculptured out of the natural rock by the 
celebrated Danish sculptor Thorwaldsen, in memory of the 
Swiss guard that were massacred in defence of the Tuileries 
in 1792. The figure is in a beautiful grotto, a sheet of water, 
which is fed by springs that trickle out from the stone that 
it is carved from, separating it from the spectator. 
) The reclining figure of this dying lion, so familiar to all 
from pictorial representations, is twenty-eight feet in length, 
and, as it lies transfixed with the broken lance, and in the 
agonies of death, sheltering the French shield and jleur de lit 
with its great paws, forms a most appropriate monument, and 
one not easily forgotten. 

Lake Lucerne, the Lake of the Four Cantons, is the most 
beautiful in Switzerland, ^nd the grandeur and beauty of the 
scenery on every side are heightened by the historical associa- 
tions connected with the coimtry bordering on its waters; 
for these cantons are the birthplace of Switzerland's freedom, 
and the scenes of the struggles of William Tell and his brave 
associates. It was a beautiful summer's morning when we 
embarked on board one of the little steamers that leave 
Lucerne four or five times a day, and steamed out fr*om the 
pier, leaving the long string of hotels, the range of lulls above 
them, with the curious walls and watch-towers, behind us, 
and grim old Mount Pilatus with his necklace of clouds stand- 
ing guard over the whole. 

We again pass the green slopes of the Righi, and in the 
distance the great Alpine peaks begin to appear, printed 
against the sky. Soon we come to Burgenstock, a great 
forest-clad hill that rises abruptly from the very lake to the 
height of over three thousand four hundred feet; we pass 
beautifiil slopes rimmed with a background of lofly mountain 
peaks ; here is the picturesque little village of Wag^s, from 
which many make the ascent of the Righi ; next we pass a 
beautiful little crescent-shaped village, and then come in sight 
two gi*eat barren, rocky-looking peaks named My then, nearly 
six thousand feet high ; and the boat rounds up to the pier of 


Biniiinen, a lovely situation, where many tourists disembark 
and others come on board. Shortly after leaving here, we 
pass a perpendicular rock, nearly a hundred feet high^ on 
which is inscribed, in huge gilt letters, an inscription signify- 
ing it is to " Frederick Schiller, the Bard of Tell." Just be- 
yond this a passenger directs our view to a green field, and a 
few scattered chalets. That is Rutli, what little we can see 
of it, and where the foimders of Swiss liberty met, and bound 
themselves by oath to free the land from the invader. 

The steamer glides close to the shore, and gives us an op- 
portunity of seeing Tell's Chapel, situated upon a rock on the 
shore, and marking the place where Tell sprang out of Gcss- 
ler's boat, as is told in the stories of the Swiss hero. Leav- 
ing this behind, we soon come in sight of Fluelen, our point 
of destination, situated in the midst,of a surrounding of grand 
Alpine scenery. Between two great peaks, in full view, we 
can see a glacier, with its white snow and blue ice, and a great 
peak, with castle-shaped summit, looms up seventy-five hun- 
dred feet, while behind Fluelen rise two other peaks nearly 
ten thousand feet. We are circled by great Alps, with their 
snowy crowns and glaciers gleaming in the sunlight. 

Landing at Fluelen, we engaged for our party of five a pri- 
vate open carriage, for the journey through St. Oothard Pass, 
instead of taking the great cumbrous ark of a diligence that 
was in waiting. By this means we secured a vehicle very 
much like an open barouche, roomy, comfoi*table, and special- 
ly designed for the journey, with privilege, of course, of 
stopping when and where we liked, driving fast or slow ; in 
fact, travelling at our own convenience. This is by far the 
plcasantest way of travelling the mountain passes accessible 
to carriages, and where a party can be made up of four or 
five, the expense per head is but a small advance on that 
chai-ged in the diligence, a dusty, dirty, crowded vehicle, with 
but few positions commanding the view, which is what the 
tourbt comes to see. 

Crack, crack, crack went the driver's whip, like a succes* 
sion of pistol-fih^ts, as ^e rattled out of Fluelen, and, after a 


pleasant ride of half an hour, rolled into the romantic little 
village of Altorf, embosomed in a lovely valley, with the 
huge mountains rising all about it. 

Altorf 1 William TeU I "Men of Altorf!" 

Yes ; this was the place embalmed in school-boy memone<i 
with all that was bold, heroic, brave, and romantic. Here 
was where William Tell defied Gessler, dashed down his cap 
from the pole, and appealed to the men of Altorf. 

Pleasant little Swiss town. We ride through a narrow 
street, which widens out into a sort of market-place, at one 
end of which stands a huge plaster statue of the Swiss liberar 
tor, which is said to occupy the very spot that he stood upon 
when he performed his wondrous feat of archery, and one 
hundred and fifly paces distant a fountain marks the spot 
where his son Albert stood awaiting the arrow from his fa- 
ther's bow, though some of the Swiss insist that Albert's 
position was thirty paces farther, where a tower now stands, 
upon which some half-obliterated frescoes, representing scenes 
in TelFs life, are painted. 

We descended from our carriage, walked over the space of 
the arrow flight, and called to each other from the opposite 
points ; pictured to ourselves the crowd of villagere, the fierce 
soldiery that pressed them back, the anxiety of the father, the 
twang or the bow, distinctly heard in the awe struck hush of 
the assemblage as the arrow sped on its flight, and then the 
shout that went up as the apple was cleft, and the boy, un- 
huit, ran to his father's arms. 

Away wo sped from the town of Altorf, passed a little 
castle on a height, said to be that of Gessler, and soon 
emerged on the broad, hard, floor-like road of the St. Gothard 
Pass ; and what pen can describe the grandeur and beauty of 
this most magnificent of all Alpine passes! One may read 
descriptions, see engravings, paintings, photographs, or pano- 
ramas, and yet get no idea of the grandeur of the spectacle. 

There were huge walls of splintered crags, so high that 
they seemed to be rocky curtains hung down out of the blue 
heavens* lliese nfere mountains, such as I ima^ned moun- 

392 "above me are the alps." 

tains were when a child. Wc had to look straight up into 
the sky to see them. Great rocky walls rose almost from the 
road-side sheer up thousands and thousands of feet. A whole 
range of peaks is printed against the sky directly before us, 
half of them glittering with snow and ice. On we rolled 
over the smooth road, and emerged into a vast oval amphi- 
theatre, as it were, the road passing through the centre, the 
gi*een slopes the sides, and the huge peaks surrounding the 
outer barriers that enclosed it. We all stood up in our car- 
riage, with exclamations of admiration at the magnificent 
scene that suddenly burst upon us. 

Just below the broad road we were upon rushed the River 
Reuss, a foaming torrent. Beyond it, on the opposite side, 
all the rest of the distance, the whole beautiful valley, and 
along the green slope of the opposite mountain, for three or 
four miles, were Swiss chalets, flocks feeding, men and women 
at work, streams turning water-wheels, romantic waterfalls 
spattering down in large and small ravines. We could see 
them starting from their source miles away up among the blue 
glacieiTS, where, beneath the sun's beams, they fluttered like 
little threads of silver, and farther down came into view in 
great brooks of feathery foam, till they rushed into the river 
that owed its life to thek contributions. 

The distance is so enormous, the scenery so graild, that it 
is beyond description. I was like Gulliver among the Brob- 
dingnagians, and feared I never should get my head down to a 
level with ordinary mortals again. I discovered, too, how de- 
ceptive the distance was among these huge peaks. In at- 
tempting to toss a pebble into the stream that flowed appar- 
ently thirty or forty feet below the road, and, as I thought, 
about twenty feet from it, it fell far short. Another and an- 
other effort failed to reach it ; for it rolled over three hundre<I 
feet below, and more than two hundred and fifty from us. 

Every variety of mountain peak rose before us against the 
dark-blue afternoon sky. There were peaks that ran away up 
into heaven, glittering with snow ; old gray crags, splintered, 
as it were, with thunder-bolts ; huge square, tl*r>^?-like wall% 


the very throne of Jupiter ; mountains that were like great 
brown castles ; and peaks that the blue atmosphere of dis- 
tance painted with a hundred softened and varied hues. 

The reader may fancy himself vie wing this scene, if possible, 
which we saw as we rode over this smooth, well-kept road — 
at our right a ridge of mountain wall, at our left the great 
ravine, with the white-foamed torrent rushing over its rocky 
bed, every mile or so spanned by arched stone bridges. On 
the other side of the stream were the pretty rural picture of 
farms, chalets, gardens, herds, and flocks. Every inch of 
ground that was available was cultivated, and the cultivation 
runs up the mountain side as far as vegetation can exist. All 
around the air was filled with the rattle of running water. 
Rushing torrents leaped from great ravines, little ribbons 
tumbled down in silver sheets, brooks clattered and flashed 
as they wound in and out of view on their way to the valley, 
cascades vaulted over sharp crags, and the sides of this vast 
amphitheatre were glistening with silvery veins. I counted 
over twenty waterfalls within one sweep of the eye. 

We were surprised into admiration at the state of the road. 
It is a magnificent specimen of engineering, and, although it 
is a steady ascent, it is rendered easy and comparatively im- 
perceptible by numerous curves. There are forty-six great 
curves, or zigzags, in the ascent. The road itself is nearly 
twenty feet wide, kept in admirable order, free as a floor from 
the least obstruction, and protected on the side towards the 
precipice by strong stone posts planted at regular intervals. 
There are many streets in Boston more difficult of ascent and 
more dangerous of descent than the road of the St. Gothard 

The magnificent roads in the mountain passes, the fine 
hotels, the regulations respecting guides, and the care tuid at- 
tention bestowed upon travellers in Switzerland, are all for a 
pui7>ose ; for the Swiss, as I have remarked, live on the travel 
of foreigners, and are wise enough to know that the more easy 
and pleasant they make travelling to tomdsts, the mere of 
them will come, and the more money will be spent The 


roads are aliiost as great a wonder as the scenery. Some- 
times, when a spur of the mountain juts out, a tunnel, or gal- 
lery, is cut right through it ; and really there is comparatively 
but very little danger in traversing the Swiss passes, except to 
those venturesome spirits who persist in attempting to scale 
almost inaccessible peaks, or ascending Mont Blanc, Mont 
Rosa, or the dangerous Matterhom. 

As we rode on and on, and up and up, we came to a wild 
scene that seemed a very chaos — the commencement of creap 
tion. We found ourselves in the midst of great black and 
iron-rust colored crags, five or six thousand feet high, jagged, 
splintered, and shattered into every variety of shape. The 
torreAt fairly roared hundreds of feet below. I had left the 
carriage, and was walking some hundreds of yards in advance 
alone as I entered this tremendous pass. The road hugged 
the great black rocky wall of the mountain that rose so high 
as almost to shut out the light. On the opposite side were 
mountains of solid black rock, not a spear of grass, not a 
speck of verdure, from base to summit. The great rushmg 
mountain torrent tore, rushed, and leaped madly over the huge 
boulders that had rolled into its jagged bed, and its fall was 
all that broke the awful stillness and the gloomy grandeur of 
the place ; for the whole scene, which the eye took in for 
miles,' was lofty masses of everlasting granite, hurled together 
and cleft asunder as by supernatural means. I could think 
of nothing like it but Gustavo Dore's pictures in Dante's In- 
ferno ; and this terrific pass was a good representation of the 
approach to hell itself. It is astonishing to notice how the 
scene hushes the visitor into an awe-struck silence ; for it 
seems as if in these wild and awful heights, as on mid-ocean, 
man stands more immediately in the presence of the Al- 

The seen 3 culminates at the bridge itsei^ _ appropriatolv 
named the Devil's Bridge, — where is a trem ^ i m 
waterfall pouring down and where the eye takeTin tKoIe 
of tho black ravxne, with the road Uke a white snake clinging 
x. the precipitous mountam wall. Thirty or forty feet S 

also spanmi,g ifae torrer 
upon which the battle w 
Austiians — a terrible r>: 
The new bridge, over w la 
ture of granite, and has 
Through the mighty mvix 
on through 3 great tunnel 
■wide, cut through the sol 
dred feet, soon after emer' 
dant, broad, level paBture 
valley Bui-rounded by loft' 
TTri, and its pleasant vei 
flows through it, is an a^n 
gloomy grandeur of the 
There are only about fon 
inhabitants subsist by tli 
ellers' ba^age and mcrcli 
We next came to tho 1 
beyond it, at nightfall, 
glad to reach the Meyei 
The house, which had ac 
guests, was crowded w-itl 
eral representation of -A. 
morning, after discuasLng 
our return, having a fin 
rising high above tlie rx».« 
morning Bunshinc. "W"^ 
and halted on the I>e-v-i 
the Rousa, that leaps an 
hundred feet, as it -psi-si 
np, saw the spray of 
fu! rainbows by the n 
terrible masses of rocslti 
mendoua ravines; !>«.*> 
twilight of afternoon, "^ 
by tourists, is lost, to 
the day. 

886 THE BRimiG PASS. 

Ouoi) more, adieu to Lucerne; and this time we start 
from the door of the Schweizerhoff in private conveyance for 
Interlaken, via the Brunig Pass. We rode along for nmes 
over a smooth, level road, on the very banks of the Lake of 
the Four Cantons, the scenery being a succession of charm- 
ing pictures of lake and mountain. Our road led us through 
several Swiss villages, generally closely built, with narrow 
and irregular streets, and very dirty. The Swiss peasants 
that we meet are browned and bent with hard toil. Men 
and women toil alike, in the fields and by the roadside. All 
are trained to burden-bearing, which is by means of a long 
basket made to fit the back and shoulders, the top higher 
than the head. The women over thirty years of age are 
coarse and masculine, their faces and hands browned, seamed, 
and wrinkled with toil. They clamber about in the mountain 
passes, and gather grass for their herds, carrying the burdens 
in their baskets, or the manure which may be found on the 
road during the travelling season, or break stones for mend- 
ing the roads. 

The Brunig road was another one of those wonderful 
specimens of engineering, with not a loose pebble upon its 
floor-like surface, the scenery romantic and beautiful, but not 
of so grand a description as the St. Gothard. We wind 
through the woods, have occasional glimpses of the valley 
below, until finally, at the summit of the pass, the magnifi- 
cent scenery of the Meiringen valley bursts upon the view. 
This is, as it were, a level, beautiful country, deep between 
two great ranges of mountains, and you stand upon one and 
look down upon it, and across to the other. 

This smiling valley was like a framed pict^te in the sun^ 
shine; the silver River Aare wound througlx it>^^^^ villages 
were nestled here and there, orchards "bloo"^^^' ^^^ fields 
were verdant, sheltered by the high cra&^ i^^^ ^^® ^^^ 
wind, and brown i-oads wound in and out awv^^^^ '^ '^^' 
vated farms. Directly opposite us, away ^ f ^^ ^^^^ ®^^^ 
of the valley, rose up the sheer, rocky 8i^ "^^ i ^5^^ mountain 
waU, out of wliich waterfalls were spi^^? ^ ^^ cascades 




dashing in eveiy direction, to feed the stream below. 
There ^vere the beautiful falls of the Reichenbach, rushing 
over the elif^ and dropping hundreds and hundreds of feet 
down to the valley. The different waterfalls that we could 
see at the opposite side of the valley seemed like white, wav- 
ing wreaths hung upon the mountain-sides. To the rear of 
these, overtopping all at intervals, lofty snow-clads lifted 
their white crowns into the sunshine. The view of this 
lovely valley, with its green pastures, meandering rivers, and 
picturesque waterfalls; its verdant carpet, dotted with vil- 
lages, and the whole fiinged wiilk a belt of firs and dark 
green foliage, as we looked down into it from ouf lefty plat- 
form, reminded me of the story of the genius who stamped 
his foot on the mountain, which was cleft open, and showed 
in its depths to an astonished peasant the lovely country of 
the elves and fairies, in contrast with the desolation of the 
rocky crags and mountains that rose about him. 

Down we ride, amid beautiful mountain sceneiy on every 
side, and finally through the town of Brienz, where the 
beautiful wood carving is wrought. We have a good view 
of the Faulhom in the distance, pass through two or three 
little Swiss villages, and finally drive into a beautiftil green 
valley, with quite a New England appearance to the pensions^ 
or boarding-houses, which passed, we come to a string of 
splendid hotels upon one side of the broad road, the other 
side being open, and affording an unobstructed view of the 
Jungfrau and its snowy crown. Fatigued with a ten-hours' 
ride, and sight-seeing, we drive up to the door of the mag- 
nificent Hotel Victoria. Price of the carriage hire, extra 
norses, driver's fee, horse baiting, and all, for the whole day's 
journey, fifty francs, — ten dollara, or two dollars apiece, — 
and a very reasonable price it was considered for private 
conveyance, premiere claaae^ at the height of the travelling 


The hotels at Interlaken are fine establishments, and well 
kept. The Victoria, where we were domiciled, has fine 
grounds in fronts and commands a view of the Jungfrau gla* 


cier. It contains two hundred and forty rooms, and has 
reading-rooms, parlors, and music-rooms equal to the hotels 
at our fashionable watering-places. Prices high — about two 
dollars per day, each peraon. There are numerous other 
smaller hotels, where the living is equally good, and the 
prices are less; and still others, known as pensions^ where 
visitors stay for a few weeks or the season, which are very 
comfortable, and at which prices are half the rate above 

Interlaken is beauti^illy and romantically situated, and is 
a popular resort for tourists in Switzerland, as a place from 
which many interesting excursions may be made. We chose » 
ours to be up over the Wengcmalp to Grindenwald, sending 
our carriage around from Lauterbrunnen to Grindenwald, to 
meet us as we came down by the bridle-path to that place. 
The ride to Lauterbrunnen was the same succession of 
beautiful Alpine scenery that I have so often desciibed — 
lofty mountains, cascades, waterfalls, green slopes, distant 
snow-clads, dark pines, blue distance, Swiss chalets^ and pic- 
turesque landscape. 

Beggars now begin to be a serious nuisance, especially 
when your carnage stops at different points for you to enjoy 
the. view. Then boys and ^rls come with milk, plums, apri- 
cots, cheap wood carvings, and curious pebbles, to sell, till one 
gets perfectly nervous at their approach, especially after the 
halt, the lame, and the blind have besought you ; and one 
fellow capped the climax, as we were enjoying a beautiful 
view, by. gracefully swajring a toy flexible snake into our car- 
nage, to our most intense disgust and indignation. As you 
progress, women waylay the carriage at the top of a small 
ascent, which it must approach slowly, and bawl Swiss songs, 
ending with an outstretched palm, as you reach them. Boys 
and men, at certain points in the passes, sound Alpine horns, 
— a wide-mouthed instrument of wood, six feet in length, — 
which gives out a sonorous but mellow sound, peculiarly 
musical in the Alpine echoes. The blowers expect tJiat a 
few sous will be tossed to them, and children chase you with 
bunches of mountain flowers to selL 


How people majiage to exist far up in some of these wild 
mountain defiles is a wonder ; and it seems as though it must 
be a struggle for some of them to keep soul and body togeth- 
er : they save every bit of herbage, scrape up manure from 
the roads, cultivate all they can in the short summers, keep 
goats and cows, and live on travellers. 

The Catholic priests have penetrated etery pass and defile 
in the country, and at their little chapels in the Alps and by 
the roadsides are rude and fearfully yough-looking representa- 
tions of our Saviour on the cross, and of various saints under- 
going all sorts of tortures. Now and then we meet a party 
of peasants on foot, men and women travelling over the 
mountain pass from one canton to another, the leader holding 
a rosary, and all repeating a prayer together, invoking pro- 
tection from dangers on the road. The priests, with their 
long black robes and huge hats, you meet all over Europe. 
We had one — a jolly fellow he was, too — in the same compart- 
ment of a railway carriage on one of the Swiss roads, who 
laughed, joked, had a pleasant chat with the ladies, asking all 
sorts of questions about America, and at parting, bade us 
adieu with an air. 

As we approached Lauterbrunnen, we rode through the 
romantic valley of the River Lutschine, which rashes and 
boils over the rocks at such a rate that the cloudy glacier 
water has exactly the appearance of soap-suds. Here, on this 
river's banks, rests the picturesque little village of Lauter- 
brunnen, which name, we were told, signified springs. The 
little waterfalls and cascades can be seen flashing out in every 
direction from the lofry mountains that surround it; but 
chief among them is the superb and graceful Staubbach, that 
tumbles down from a lofty cliff nine hundred and twenty-five 
feet in height. The best view of this beautifiil fall is at a 
point nearly half a mile distant, as the water, which is not of 
great volume, becomes converted into a shower of mist before 
reaching the ground, after its lofty leap ; but at this point, 
where we had the best view of it, it was like a wreath of 
snowy foam, broadening at the base into a million of beauti* 


fill scintillations in the sunlight, and the effect of the wind 
was to sway it hither and thither like a huge strip of snowy 
lace that had been hung down over the green side of the 

Now we take horses, after loaying the road that runs 
through Lauterbrunnen. Every half hour reveals to us new 
wonders of Alpine scenery and beauty ; we reach the little 
village of Wengen, and see great peaks rising all around us ; 
upward and onward, and from our mountain path we can look 
back and down in the valley of Lauterbrunnen, that we have 
left far, far below ; we see the Staubbach fall dwarfed to a 
little glittering line, and, above it its other waterfall, of several 
hundred feet, which was not visible from the valley. But still 
upward and onward we go, and now come to a- long ridge, 
upon which the bridle-path runs, as it were on the back-bone 
of the mountain. Here we have a view as grand, as Alpine, 
as Swiss, as one has ever read about or imagined. 

Right across the ravine, which appeared like a deep 
crevasse, scarcely half a mile wide, was a huge blue wall of 
ice, seamed with great chasms, rent into great fissures, cold, 
still, awftil, and terrible, with its background of lofty moun- 
tains covered with eternal snow. Now we had a view of the 
Jungfrau in all its majesty, as its snow crest sparkled in the 
sunshine, twelve thousand eight hundred and twenty-seven 
feet in height. There were the Silverhom and the Schneer- 
hom, springing their lofty peaks out of a vast expanse of snow 
and ice ; a whole chain of gigantic cliflfe, so lofty in height that 
you seem to look up into the very heavens at their peaks of 
dazzling whiteness ; the Shreckhom, twelve thousand two 
hundred feet high ; the Black Monk, a dark mass of rocks, 
twelve thousand feet, in striking contrast with the snowy 
mantles that clothe the other mountains. 

Great glaciers, miles in extent, put a chill into the ah* that 
makes you shudder. The gap that I thought half a mile wide 
is a space nearly six times that distance across; we feel 
dwarfed amid the immensity and stupendous grandeur of the 
scene, and, as we unconsciously become silent, are struck with 
the unbroken, awful stillness of the Alps. 


We are above the murmur of brooks and the nish of water- 
falls; no bird or insect chirmps here; there is not even a 
bnsh for the wind to sigh through. Now and then a deep, 
sonorous murmur, as of the sigh of some laboring gnome in 
the mountain, or the twang of a gigantic harp-string, breaks 
the silence for a moment, and then dies away. It is a distant 
avalanche. We listen. It is gone! and all is still, awful, 

We rode on ; the view took in a whole chain of lofty moun- 
tains : now we pass great walls of crag, three or four thousand 
feet high, now looked across the ravine at the great glaciers, 
commencing with layers of snow and ice, and running out 
till they became a huge sheet of blue ice, the color deepening 
till it was blue as vitriol ; but we were doomed to pay one of 
the penalties of sight-seeing in the Alps, for swiftly came a 
thick cloud, shutting out the whole view, and out of it came 
a heavy shower, drenching all thoroughly. A quarter of an 
hour of this, and the cloud had passed on, and we had nearly 
reached the little Hotel Bellevue, our point of destination, 
and come in sight of a verdant hill-side, a vast green, sheltered 
slope, in striking contrast to the ice and snow of the other 
part of the pass. 

Our guides made us first halt, and look at the herd of 
cattle that were feeding upon it, and then pause, and listen to 
the tinkle of their bells, — more than three hundred m num- 
ber, — that sounded like a vast music-box in the Alpine still- 
ness. Then we looked away across the valley, and saw the 
little village of Miirren, the highest village in Switzerland, 
five thousand and eighteen feet, on a mountain-side ; and 
finally we reached the hotel on the highest point of the little 
Scheideck, six thousand two hundred and eighty-four feet 
(Righi is five thousand five hundred and forty-one feet), and 
as we approached across the little plat of level ground in 
front of it, found we had arrived at a " reapers' festival ; " and 
there was quite a gathering of peasants, who assemble here 
on the first Sunday in August, dressed in the Grindenwald 
costume, for dancing, wrestling, and other festivities^ Thej 



had been driven in-doora by the ram ; the entry of the little 
hotel was crowded ; and however romantic and pictnresqae 
the Swiss mountaineer may look in his national costume in 
the picture-books, or poetical he and the Swiss maiden may 
be in songs and ballads, there is an odor of garlic and to- 
bacco about them at close quarters that seriously affects 
poetic sentimentality. 

As the rjiin had ceased, the peasants once more betook 
themselves to dancing to the music of a cracked clarinet and 
a melodeon; and another group got up an extemporaneous 
fight, two of them tumblmg down a dozen or fifteen feet into 
a gully without injurj', while we put the house under contribu- 
tion for wood for a fire in the best room, and were soon drying 
our clothes by a blaze of claret-wine boxes. A" capital moun- 
tain dinner^ in which tea, honey, sweet bread, butter, and 
chamois chops figured, was so much better and cheaper than 
the soggy doughnuts, indigestible pie, sour bread, and cold 
beans that used to be set before the traveller at the Tip Top 
House, Mount Washington, New Hampshire, for the tip top 
price of one dollar a head, that we could not help drawing 
the comparison. 

A rest and an enjoyment of the grand view of moimtsdn 
chain, snowy peaks, and vast glaciers that surround us, and 
we start for the descent to Grindenwald. Grand views we 
had of the Wetterhom, the Faulhom, and the upper and 
lower glaciers of Grindenwald. We pass where avalanches 
have torn down the mountain-side, and thrown huge boulders 
about like pebbles, then over patches of open field, where 
stunted herbage grows, and Alpine roses redden the ground 
with their blossoms ; then we come to woods, pastures, and 
peasants, and reach Grindenwald just before nightfall, to find 
our caniage waiting to take us back to Interlaken, which we 
reached after an absence of about eleven hours. 

Interlaken is a grand depository and mart of the Swiss 
carved wood work, Alpine crystals, Ac. ; and grand stores of 
this merchandise, after the fashion of the ^ Indian stores " at 
Niagara Falls, attract the tourist. Some of this carving ia 



very beautifully and artistically done, and some of it is cheap 
and not worth the trouble of taking away ; but it is posi- 
tively amusing to see how some American travellers will load 
themselves down with this trash because it is cheap. Some 
of the smoke crystals and rock crystals, fashioned into sleeve- 
buttons and watch-seals, were both handsome and low priced. 

I strolled into the little shop of an honest old Hebrew from 
Prague, who had a cheaply-painted little sign, in English, 
that he sold " Garnets, real Stones,** and found that he did 
not, or had not learned to charge extravagant prices; he 
spoke English, and was teaching it to his little daughter, from 
a primer, when we entered, for " English and Americans buy 
garnet, and must be talk wis." The old fellow's garnets 
were excellent and cheap, and I soon had sleeve-buttons, and 
scarf-pin, large pin, and small pin, studs, and the garnet in 
forms enough to render me ruddy for the next ten years, and 
was preparing to take my departure, when, leaning too heavily 
upon the little show-case, my elbow went through it with a 
crash. Here was a chance for. damage! To be sure the 
pane of glass was little larger than a sheet of foolscap ; but 
wo must pay what the proprietor charged; and was be 
not a Jew? Well, this Jew thought two francs would amply 
reimburse him ; but monsieur had been so kind, be could only 
charge him one. 

After being deceived in the Rue de la Paix, cheated on tbe 
Boulevards, swindled barefacedly in the Grand Hotel, aivd 
humbugged outrageously in the PalaAa Royal-, 1 Tat^^e^ te - 
ished being "Jewed " in this manner ; none tbe \es^ a^eeaxAe 
and satisfactory from its being so un-Clxristiatv-^^^^ ?^ ^i\ve 
action. Accordmgly I hailed two other An^ct^^^^ ^"^^^e oi 
street, men who "bought everything e^ptV^^^^^^ ^^^""""^ 
whom had got one of his trunks ro.^. / ts'P' ^c^c.^--^^^'^ 

whom had got one of his trunks bo w a \^f^' ^oQ^-"^^^^ 
packed with shirts, curiosities, glove ^\<^^ ^oV^^ ^^^^\ 
stockings, photographs, crystals, boot^' ';\e^^ 40^''^''^^\^ 
clothing, fans, and stereoscopic viexv^Q I^ ^ ^ AcT^^^y^'^ "^^Ix^ 
the Chinese puzzle, gave up trying to'*^ ^^^^ Vl>^^^^^ 
ing apparel m it, and sent it back t;c^ ^^ ^ ^< ^^ 



two as they were passing, commended the merchandise and 
'^much kindness in the Jew," and the old fellow, in less than 
half an hour, felt that he had brought his glittering gems 
from Pragae to some purpose, as many of his best jewels 
changed places with the gold Napoleons of the Americans. 

The little hotel at Giessbach was full when we arrived, 
although we had telegraphed a day in advance for rooms; 
and a polite porter met us at the pier, as the boat drew up, 
with regrets, and commended the "Bear," which was situated 
in the village of Brienz, opposite, where we could sup, lodge, 
and breakfast, and row over to see the Giessbach Falls. There 
was no resource but to go to the Bear, and we went ; and 
after a bad supper, a boat's crew of two men and a woman 
rowed us back across the lake to Giessbach to see the lime 
light illumination of the falls. From the landing to the ter- 
race commanding the falls is a good twenty minutes' climb ; 
but in the* darkness, preceded by a couple of guides bearing 
lanterns, there is not much opportunity for a critical examina- 
tion of the surrounding scenery : however, we determined to 
revisit it by daylight, and all agreed that the idea of exhibit- 
ing a water6ill on a dark night, by means of an illumination, 
at a franc a head, was an idea worthy a Bamum, or at least 
the inventive qualities of an American. 

We reached tJie terrace, and there waited in the blackness 
of night with an expectant group. We could hear the torrent 
dashing and tumbling down opposite to where we stood, and 
high above among the clif&, but our vision failed to penetrate 
half a dozen yards into the Cinmierian gloom. 

Suddenly a little rocket shot out from below us ; another, 
above, with momentary flash revealed a tumbling cascade 
and tlie dark green foliage, and then all again was blackness. 
In a moment or two, however, a bright glare shot out from 
below, another above it, another and another flashed up, and 
then from out the blackness, like an illuminated picture, we 
saw the beautiful fall, a series of seven cascades, leaping and 
tumbling down amid the verdant foliage, every twig of which 
stood out in the powerful light, while through the romantio 


and pictnresqne ravine poured a mass of foam of molten 
silver, beneath the colored light, rich, gleaming and dazzling. 
But while we gazed, the hue changed, and purple equal to 
Tynan dye for robe of Roman emperor tumbled over purple 
rocks, and dashed up violet spray into the air. Once more, 
and the rocks were ingots, the stream was Pactolus itself, the 
bark on trees at the brink were as if Midas himself had smote 
*them, and the branches bore gold leaf above the yellow cur- 
rent. But it changed again, and a torrent red as ruby gushed 
over the rocks, the ravine was lighted with a red glare as of 
a conflagration, and as we gazed on those spurting, tumbling 
crimson torrents there was something horribly suggestive in 
the sight. 

" Blood, blood I lago.** 

But we did not see it long in that light, for the herbage, 
trees, and foliage were next clothed in an emerald hue, till 
the ravine looked like a peep into Aladdin's cavern, and the 
torrent was of that deep green tinge which marks that great 
bend of the falling water when it pours with such majestic 
sweep over the crag near Table Rock, at Niagara. 

The green faded gradually, the torrent leaped a few mo- 
ments in paler light, cascade after cascade disappeared ; we 
were again in darkness, and the exhibition was over. Pre- 
ceded by our lantern-bearers, we gained the, boat, and our 
crew started out into the blackness of the lake for the oppo- 
site shore, and for one of the dozen groins of lights that 
marked the landings. 

We were compelled to bear with the "Bear** for one night, 
but cannot commend it as the "Great Bear" or a planet of 
much briUiancy ; so we bore away from it early in the morn- 
ing for the opposite shores, again to see the falls by daylight, 
ere the steamer started on the return trip to Interlaken. The 
ascent is a series of curves up a delightful, romantic pathway, 
and when part way up crosses a bridge commanding a view 
of a portion of the falls ; but from the charming terrace near 
the hotel, the sight of the series of six or seven successive 
leaps or continuous cascades of the water as it rushes < down 

406 BBBZTB. 

an impetaoas 6 taming torrent from a height of three to four 
hmidred feet in the mountain wall is magnificent. We sat 
beneath the trees and enjoyed the sight till the last moment, 
and saw, by turning towards the lake, that the steamer had 
left the opposite shore, then reluctantly tore ourselves away 
from the charming scene, and descended to the pier. 

A pleasant sail back to Interlaken, an omnibus ride over 
to a steamboat landing, and we were once more embarked on 
another Swi^s lake, — Lake Thun, — a beautiful sheet of water 
ten miles long, a portion of its banks covered with vineyards, 
and the view of Alps on Alps, in every direction in the dis- 
tance, most magnificent ; there were our old acquaintances, 
the Jungfrau, Monk, Eiger, and Wetterhom, also the Faul- 
hom, and dozens of others, with their pure frosted summits 
and blue glaciers all around us as we paddled over the little 
blue lake, till reaching the town of Thun, we stepped into 
the railway carriage of the Central Swiss Railway, and in an 
hour were at Berne, at the fine hotel known as the Bemer- 
hofl? which commands a view of the whole line of snow-clad 
Bernese Alps in one continuous chain in the distance, looking 
like gigantic ramparts thrown up by Titans. This city is on 
the River Aare, or, rather, on the high bank above it; for the 
river is more than a hundred feet below, and that portion of 
the city towards its bank seems placed, as it were, on a grand 
terrace for a lookout to the distant mountains. 

If the tourist has not previously learned that the Bear is 
the heraldic emblem of Berne, he will learn that fact before 
he has been in the city a quarter of an hour. Two granite 
bears guard the city gates ; a shield in the Com Exchange is 
upheld by a pair of them, in wood ; fountains have their cflSgy 
carved upon the top; and in the cathedral square, keeping 
guard of a large bronze statue of a mounted knight in full 
armor, Rudolf von Erlach, are four huge fellows, the size of lifb, 
in bronze, at the four coiners of the pedestal. Then the city 
government keep a bears' den at the public expense — a huge 
circular pit, in which three or four living specimens of their 
tutelar deity solemnly promenade or climb a pole for bona 
and biscuits from visitors. 

BBAB8. 407 

Wood-carving can be bought at Beme of very pretty and 
artistic execution, and the wood-carvers have exhausted their 
ingenuity in producing groups of bears, engaged in all sorts 
of occupations. I had no idea what a comical figure this 
clumsy beast makes when put in such positions. We have 
stopped at many a shop window and laughed heartily at the 
comical groups. Here were a party of bears plajdng at ten- 
pins : a solemn old Bruin is adding up the score ; another, 
with one foot advanced and the ball poised, is about to make 
a ten strike, and a bear with body half bent forward watches 
the effect of the roll. Another group represented a couple at 
the billiard table, with one, a rakish-looking cub, making a 
scientific stroke, and his companion, another young " buster," 
with arm akimbo and cigar in mouth, watching them. There 
was a group of bear students, all drunk, arm in arm ; two old 
bears meeting and shaking hands on 'Change ; whole schools 
studying, with a master putting the rod upon a refractory 
bear ; and a full orchestra of bears playing on every variety 
of musical instrument ; in fact, bears doing almost everything 
one had seen men do, and presenting a most iiTesistibly 
comic appearance. These figures were all carved fi*om wood, 
and were from a couple of inches to six inches in height. 
Scarce any tourist leaves without a bear memento. 

The great music-box and carved wood-work stores here are 
museums in their way. Of course the more elaborate and best 
wrought specimens of wood-carving command high piices, 
but nothing like the extortions of. the fancy goods stores in 
America. Benic is a grand place to buy music-boxes in 
carved wood-work, and cuckoo clocks ; some of these con- 
trivances are very ingenious. We visited one great " maga- 
sin^^ near the hotel, where they had photograph albums, with 
carved wood covers, that played three tunes when you opened 
them ; cigar buffets that performed a polka when you turned 
out the weed to your guests ; work-boxes that went off into 
quadrilles when you lifted the lid, and tables that performed 
grand mirches when you twisted their drawer-knobs. Every 
once in a while the cuckoos darted out of one or two of the 


threescore clocks, of which no two were set alike, bobbed 
their heads, cuckooed, and went back again with a snap ; and 
there was one clock fashioned like a Swiss chalet^ from the 
door of which at the hour a figure of a httle fellow, six inches 
in height, emerged, and, raising a horn to his mouth, played 
an air of a minute's duration, and retired. Fatigued, I sank 
into a chair whose aims were spread invitingly, when I was 
startled by that well-known air, the Sailor's Hornpipe, going 
off as if somebody had put a band of music into my coat>tail 
pocket. Springing to my feet, the music stopped ; but as I 
sat down, away it went again right underneath me. It was a 
musical chair, and I sat it playing. 

We strolled through the curious old streets with the side- 
walks under the arcades of the buildings, saw the curious old 
clock-tower, where, a few minutes before the hour, an autom- 
aton cock crows, and then it is struck by a comical figure 
with a bell and a hammer, while a troop of automaton bears 
appear, and march around on a wooden platform. An old 
fellow with an hour-glass turns it over, and the cock con- 
cludes the performance by again flapping his wings and 

One of the most delightful places of promenade in the city 
is the cathedral terrace, a broad, shady walk, three or four 
hundred feet long and two hundred or more wide. It is one 
hundred feet above the river, and about ninety above the city 
street at the base. This terrace commands a fine view of the 
whole range of distant mountains, and is a favorite resort on 
summer evenings, where one may enjoy an ice-cream, cigar, 
cup of coffee, or light wine, and long after the twilight has 
deepened in the valley, watch the rosy hue that varies its tints 
upon the shining mountain peaks in the distance. 

At the old cathedral we heard a finer and larger organ than 
that at Lucerne, but an inferior performer, which made even 
the beautiful harmony that pealed beneath the Gothic arches 
seem tame in comparison. From Berne by rail, a ride of an 
hour and a half brought us to Freiburg, where we tarried a 
few hours to see its great suspension bridges, and hear its 

secured / '" ^««gth y. "^ ^^^r obains J ''^ *^« «>e 
took a nJ """t deen i . '''"'^y bixge i,nT^ ^^"^S^ a« 

where *^ "' ^*- TTe n "' ^'ti the rV*"!^^™^ ivluch 
spanned a' '*^^^ '>4e 1?'^ «« *« t„^7f -"-^e ^i„d. 

feef r " '^t«'een th , ^ ^*"e vJJl« , e'ghty-fivo feet 

feet W eo the dim. Tbisf^ ^'''''y •«<ier us 

j„ I^° great or.«„ .-_ . ""'^^^ « «even hund^^' 


410 LAKB LElLOr. 

another one of those handsome and well-kept hotels, wliicb, 
from theij comfort, elegant surromidings, and many con- 
veniences, add BO much to the tomist's enjoyment. This 
house is three hundred feet long and five stories high, &onts 
upon the lake, and has a beautifully laid out garden and park 
of nearly two acres in front and about it. My fine double 
room looks out upon the blue lake, with its plying steamboats 
aad its superb background of distant mountains. At the 
little piers in front of the hotel grounds are row and sailboats 
for the use of visitors ; and some of the former are plying 
liither and thither, with merry parties of ladies and gentlemen 
beneath their gay striped awnings. Flowers of every hue 
bloom in the gardens. A band of eight or ten pieces performs 
on the promenade balcony in front of the house every even- 
ing from six to ten o'clock. There are reading-rooms, parlors, 
and saloons. The table is excellent, and attention perfect. 
Prices — for one of the best rooms ' looking out on the lake, 
for two persons, eight francs; breakfast, three francs each; 
dinner, four francs each ; service, one franc each ; total, for 
two persons, twenty-one francs, or four dollars and twenty-five 
cents, gold, per day ; and these are the high prices at the 
height of the season for the best rooms. Reasonable enough 
here, but which they are fast learning to charge at inferior 
inns, in other parts of the country, on account of the prodi- 
gality of " shoddy " Americans. 

The view of Lake Geneva, or Lake Leman, as it is called, 
is beautiful from Ouchy. The panorama of mountains upon 
the opposite shore extends as far as the eye can reach, and in 
the sunset they assume a variety of beautiful hues — red, blue, 
violet, and rose-color. We have been particularly fortunate 
in an-iving here while the moon is near its full ; and the efiect 
of the silver rays on the lake, mountains, and surrounding 
8 ienery is beautiful beyond description. 

Up in Lausanne we have visited the old cathedral, which is 
built upon a high terrace, and reached by a dirty, irregular 
flight of plank steps, about one hundred and seventy-five in 
number; at any rate, enough to render the climber glad to 


reaoh the top of them. From the cathedral terrace we have 
a view of the tor.tuoiis streets of the town, with its pic- 
turesque, irregular piles of buildings, a beautiful view of the 
blue lake, and the battlements of the distant peaks of Savoy. 
The cathedral, which is now a Protestant church, is very fine, 
with its clustei' colunms supporting the gracefiil vaulted roof 
over sixty feet above. It is three hundred and thirty-three 
feet long and one hundred and forty-three feet in width ; and 
at one end, near where the high altar once stood, we were 
shown deep marks worn into the stone floor, which the guide 
averred were worn by the mailed knees of thousands of cru- 
saders, who knelt there, one after the other, as they received 
the priestly blessing as their army passed through here on its- 
way to do battle with the Saracen, and recover the Holy 

From the Beau Rivage Hotel we took steamer, and sailed 
along the shore, passing Yevay, with its handsome hotels, the 
romantic village of Clarens, and finally landing at YilleneuVe, 
rode up to the beautifully situated Hotel Byron. This hotel, 
although small compared with the others, was admirably kept, 
and is in one of the most romantic and lovely positions that 
can be imagined. It is placed upon a broad terrace, a little 
above the shore, and, being at the very end of the lake, com^ 
mands an extensive view of both sides, with all the lovely 
and romantic scenery. 

There, as we sat beneath the trees, we looked upon the 
scene, whieh is just as Byron wrote about it, and as true to 
the description as if written yesterday. The " clear placid 
Leman " is as blue as ii* colored with indigo. There was 
Jura; there were ''the mountains, with their thousand years 
of snow;" the wide, long lake below; there, at our left^ went 
the swift Rhone, who 

« cleaves his way between 
Heights which appear as lovers who have parted in hate." 

At a little distance we could see 

*' Clarens, cweet Clarens, birthplace of deep love ; "* 


and there, directly before us, was the " small green isle ** tliat. 
the prisoner of Chillon saw from his dungeon window ; and 
only a quarter of a mile away is the Castle of Chillon itself. 
Down the dusty road we started to visit this celebrated place, 
which almost every visitor who has read the poem feels that 
he is acquainted with. 

The castle, which is small, is on a point of land that juts 
out into the lake, and its whole appearance realizes an imagi- 
nation of a gloomy old feudal castle, or prison. It was for- 
merly sun'ounded by the waters of the lake, and is still con- 
nected on one side with the land by a drawbridge, and the 
lake washes up to its very base, seven hundred feet deep, on 
the other. Something of the romance of the place is taken 
away by the railway track, within a few rods of the draw- 
bridge, and the shrieking locomotive rushes past the very 
point where once stood the castle outworks. 

The massive, irregular walls of tliis old castle have five or 
six towers, with the loop-holes and battlements of old times. 
We crossed the bridge, passed into the old rooms — the Hall 
of Knights, and the Chamber of Question, where the rack 
and other instruments of torture were used upon the victims 
of jealous tyrants. Here we gi-asped a now useless fmgment 
of old shattered machinery, which had once been bathed with 
the sweat of agony, as the victim's limbs stretched and 
cracked beneath the terrible force of the executioner. Here 
was the huge stone that was fastened to the sufferer's feet 
when he was hoisted by the wrists to the iron staple above. 
This was the square chamber in the solid masonry, where the 
victim's groans were unheard by those without, now trans- 
foimed into a peaceful storehouse for an old wagon or two, 
with the sun streaming in at a square opening in the thick 
wall. But a few steps from here, and we come to the oubliette^ 
the staircase down which the victim made three or four steps, 
and then went plunging a hundred feet or more into the 
yawning chasm of blackness upon the jagged rocks, or into 
the deep waters of the lake below. 

But what we all came to see were the dungeons beneath 


the castle, the scene of Byron's story. These dungeons are 
several cells, of different sizes, dug out of the rock upon 
which the massive arches of the castle seem to rest. The 
two largest of them are beneath the dining and justice halls. 
From the latter we were ^own ^ narrow staircase, descend- 
ing into a little narrow recess, where victims were brought 
down, and strangled with a rope thrown across an oak beam, 
which still remains, blackened with age. Near it was an- 
other narrow, gloomy cell, said to be that in which the pris- 
oner passed the night previous to execution, and near by the 
place where thousands of Jews were beheaded in the thir- 
teenth century, on accusation of poisoning the wells, and 
causing the plague. The gloomy place fairly reeked with 
horror ; its stones seemed cemented with blood, and the very 
sighing of the summer breeze without was suggestive of the 
groans of the sufferers who had been tortured and murdered 
within this terrible prison. 
Next we came to the dungeon where 

'* There are seven pillars of Gothic monld/' 

and there are the pillars to which the prisoners were chained, 
and there is the stone floor, worn by the pacing of the pris- 
oner, as his footsteps, again and again as the weary years 
went by, described the circuit of his chain. Bonivard's pillar, 
to which he was chained for six weary years, heaiing no 
sound but the plashing of the waters of the lake without, or 
the clanking of his own chain, is thickly covered with auto- 
gi-aphs, carved and cut into it. Conspicuous among them is 
that of Byron, which looks so fresh and new as to excite sus- 
picion that it has been occasionally deepened, " Old Mortal- 
ity" like, in order that the record may not be lost. 
Here we were, then, 

'* In ChUlon'9 dungeons, deep and old." 

Now every word of Byron's poem, that we had read and 
heard recited at school, and which made such an impression 
on our mind when a boy, came back to us. 

414 , chuxon's duitgeons. 

Which was the pillar tlio younger brother was chained to ? 

There was "the crevice in the wall," where the slanting 
sunbeam came in. 

Here was the very iron ring at the base of the huge pillar; 
there were the barred windows — narrow slits, through which 
the setting sun streamed, and to which the prisoner climbed 
to look upon the scene without, — 

" to bend 
Once more npon the mountains high 
The quiet of a ioying eje." 

I Stood, and mused, and dreamed, as my companions passed 
on, and suddenly started to find myself alone in that terrible 
place, and, with a shudder, I hurried after the voices, leaving 
the gloomy dungeon behind me ; after which the white-cur- 
tained, quiet room of the Hotel Byron seemed a very palace, 
and the beautiful view of lovely lake and lofty mountain a 
picture that lent additional charm to liberty and freedom. 

Is it to be wondered at that so many people quote Byron 
at this place? For it is his poetry that has given such a 
peculiar and nameless charm to it, that if one has a spark of 
poetic fii*e in his composition, and sits out amid the flowers 
and trees, of a pleasant afternoon, looking at the blue lake, 
the distant, white-walled town, the little isle, with its three 
trees, that the prisoner saw from his dungeon, and even sees 
the eagle riding on the blast, up towards the great Jura range, 
— Jura, that answered, — 

" through her misty shroud, 
Back to the joyous Alps, that call on her aloud," — 

and follows up his thought by reading part of the third canto 
of Childe Harold, in which Lake Leman and a thunder storm 
in the Alps are described, he feels very much like repeating it 

Not having Childe Harold to read, I found relief in quoting 
those passages that everybody knows, and doing the follow- 
ing bit of inspiration upon the spot: — 


Dreams of mj youth, mj boyhood^s castles fair, 

That seemed, in later j Bars, but made of air, 

Are these the scenes that now my soul entrance, 

Scenes hallowed in dim history and romance ? 

This dark old castle, with its wave- washed wall, 

Its ancient drawbridge, and its feudal hall, 

Its dreary dungeon, where the sweet sun*s ray 

Scarce tells the tenant that without 'tis day ; 

These seven grim pillars of the Gothic mould. 

Where weary years the chained captive told. 

Waited, and wept, and prayed for freedom gweet, 

Paced round the dungeon pillar, till liis feet 

Wore in the floor of rock this time-enduring mark 

Of cruelty of men, in ages past and dark. 

Glorious Childc Harold ! How, in boyhood's age, 

Longing I traced that wondrous pilgrimage. 

Thine imperishable verse invests these mountains grand 

With new glories. Can it be that liere I stand 

And gaze, as thou, upon the self-same things ? 

The glassy lake, " the eagle on the blast," who slowly wings 

His flight to the gray peaks that lift their crests on high. 

In everlasting grandeur to the sky ? 

There rise the mountain peaks, here shines the lake ; 

Familiar scenes the beauteous picture make. 

The ** white- walled, distant town,*' glassed in the tide, 

And on its breast the whiter sails still ride. 

As when thine eye swept o'er the lovely view ; 

Thy glorious fancies and imagination grew 

T' immortal verse, and with a nameless charm 

Embalmed the scene for ages yet to come. 

Others shall, deep in Chillon's dungeon drear, 

Muse round th' historic pillars, for 'twas here, 

If we accept th' entrancing fable of thy lay. 

The brothers pined, and wasted life away. 

The guide clanks here the rusted iron ring — 

We shudder; "iron is a cankering thing." 

Through the rent walls a silver sunbeam flashes ; 

Faint is the sound of waves that 'gainst them dashef ; 

There is the window where, witli azure wing, 

The bright bird perched the prisoner heard sing ; 

Here, 'neath our very feet, perhaps', the place 

The boy, ** his mother's image in fair face," 

Was laid. 'Tis but a fable ; yet we love to trace 

These pictures, hallowed in our youthful dreams. 

And think thy lay all truthful as it seems. 

416 GENSYA. 

We leave Villeneuve, and the pleasant Hotel Byron, with 
regret, and 

" Once more on the deck I stand, 
Of my own swift-gliding craft; " 

or, in other words, we are again on board one of the pretty 
little lake steamers, paddling through the blue waters of Lake 
Creneva. Back we went, past Vevay and Ouchy, with their 
elegant hotels and gardens ; past Clarens, and amid scenes 
of exquisite and picturesque beauty, for five or six hours, till 
we reach Geneva, at the other extreme of this lovely sheet 
of water, about fifty-five miles from Villeneuve. There is 
nothing very striking in this city to the touristy — none of 
those curious old walls, towers, cathedrals, or quaint and 
antique-looking streets that he finds in so many of the other 
old European cities. There is a long and splendid row of 
fine buildings upon the quay on the river bank, elegant 
jewelry stores and hotels, a few other good streets, and the 
usual amount of naiTow alleys and dirty lanes. 

The pleasantest part of the city seen during our brief stay 
was the fine quays, and the town at that part of the lake 
where it began to narrow into a river, with the splendid 
bridge spanning it, and a little island at about the middle of 
the bridge, or rather just at one side of it, and connecting with 
it by a pretty suspension bridge. This little island is Rous- 
seau's Island, has his bronze statue, and pleasant shade trees 
upon it, a charming little promenade and seats, and is an 
agreeable resoit, besides being an admirable point to view 
the blue lake, the River Rhone emerging from it with arrowy 
swiftness, and the snowy Mont Blanc chain of mountains in 
the distance. From the windows of our room in Hotel Ecu 
de Geneve, we look down upon the swiftly-flowing blue tide 
of the river, upon which, nearly all day, black and white 
swans float, breasting against the current, and apparently 
keeping just about in the same place, arching their necks 
gi'acefuUy, and now and then going over to their home on a 
little isle just above Rousseau's, or coming on shore here and 
there — popular pets, and well cared for. 


The display of jewelry, particularly watches and chains, 
in the splendid shops along the grand quay, is very fine. 
Oeneva is head-quarters for watches and chains, and nearly 
all Americans who mean to buy those articles abroad do so 
at Geneva, for two reasons ; first, because a very good article 
can be bought there much cheaper than at home ; and next, 
because they are always assured of the quality of the gold. 
None is sold at any of the shops in Geneva under eighteen 
carats in fineness. Very handsome enamelled jewelry, of 
the best workmanship, is also sold in Geneva. Indeed, the 
quality of the material and the excellence of the workman- 
ship of the Geneva jewelry are obvious even to the uninitia- 
ted. In Paris more elaborate designs and a greater variety 
can be found, but the prices are fi.'om fifteen to twenty per 
cent, higher. 

I had always supposed, from a boy, that Geneva was over- 
flowing with musical box manufacturers, from the fact that 
all I used to see in the stores at home were stamped with 
the name of that city. Judge of my surprise in finding scarce- 
ly any exhibited in the shop windows here. At the hotel a 
fine large one played in the lower haU, with drum accom- 
paniment, and finding from the dealer's cards beside it that 
it was intended as a sample of his wares, we went to his 
factory across the river, whore the riddle was explained in 
the fact that the retail shopkeepers demanded so large a com- 
mission for selling, that the music-box makers had refused to 
send any more to them for sale. This may be a good move 
for their jobbing trade, but death to the retail trade with 
foreigners. Berne is the place for music-boxes. 

Returning across the long bridge to our hotel, we saw a 
specimen of Swiss clothes washing, and which in a measure 
may constitute some of the reasons why some of the inhab- 
itants of this part of the world change their linen so seldom. 
Beneath a long wooden shed, with its side open to the swif)> 
flowing stream, were a row of stout-armed, red-cheeked wo- 
men bending over a long wash-board, which extended into the 
stream before them. Seizing a shirt, they first gave it a swash* 



into the stream ; next it was thoroughly daubed with soap^ 
and received other yigorous swashes into the water, and was 
then drawn forth dripping, moulded into a moist moss, and 
beaten with a short wooden bludgeon with a will ; then come 
two or three more swashes and a thrashing by the stalw art 
washerwoman of the garment down upon the hard board be- 
fore her with a vigor that makes the buttons spatter out into 
the stream like a chftrge of bird shot. After witnessing this, I 
accounted for the recent transformation of a new linen gar- 
ment by one washing into a mass of rags and button splinters. 
This style of washing may be avoided to some extent by par- 
ticular direction, but the gloss or glazing which the American 
laundries put upon shirt fronts seems to be unknown on the 

The sun beat down fiercely as we started out of Geneva, — 
one of the hottest places in Switzerland I really believe, — and 
for fifteen miles or so its rays poured down pitilessly upon 
the unshaded road. Grateful indeed was a verdant little 
valley, bounded by lofty mountains, and the cliff road shaded 
with woods, that we next reached, and rattled through a place 
called Cluses; and going over a bridge spanning the River 
Arve, we entered a great rocky gorge, and again began to 
feel the cold breath of the mountains, and come in sight of 
grand Alpine ranges, snowy peaks, and rushing waterfalls. 
Finally we reach Sallanches. Here we have a fine view of 
the white and dazzling peaks of Mont Blanc towering into 
the blue sky, apparently within two or three miles fi-om where 
we stand, but wliich our driver tells us are nearly fifteen miles 
away. . 

Again we are in the midst of the magnificent scenery of 
the great mountain passes, verdant and beautiful slopes, gray 
splintered peaks, huge mountain walls, wild picturesque crags, 
waterfalls dashing down the mountain sides far and near, 
the whole air musical with their rush ; and the breath of the 
Alps was pure, fresh, and invigorating as cordial to the 

We that a few hours ago were limp, wilted, and moist 


Bpecimens of humanity, were now bright, cheery, and ani- 
mate<l ; we quoted poetry, laughed, sang, and exhausted our 
terms of admiration at the great rocky peaks that seemed 
ahnost lost in the heavens, or the fir-clad mountain side that 
jutted its dark fringe sharply against the afternoon sky. Be- 
yond, as ever, rose the pure frosted peaks, and as they glowed 
and sparkled, and finally grew rose-colored and pink in the 
sunset, it became almost like a dream of enchantment, that 
darkness gradually blotted out from view. 

We had started from Geneva with coat and vest thrown 
aside for a linen duster; we descended into the valley of 
Chamouny with coat and vest replaced, and covered with a 
substantial surtout. As we came down to the village, the 
driver pointed out to us what looked like a great blue stfeel 
shield, thousands of feet up in the heavens, hanging sharply 
out from the dome of impenetrable blackness above, and shin- 
ing in a mysterious light. It was the first beams of the rising 
moon, as yet invisible, striking upon the clear, blue ice of a 
great glacier far above us. It gradually came more distinctly 
into view, flashing out in cold, icy splendor, as the moon began 
to frost the opposite mountain, from behind which it seemed 
to climb into the heavens with a fringe of pale silver. We had 
expressed disappointment at not being able to enter Cha- 
mouny by daylight, but found some compensation in the 
novel scene of moonlight upon these vast fields of ice, with 
their sharp points rising up like the marshalled spears of an 
army of Titans, glittering in the moonlight, or stretching 
away in other directions in great sheets of blue ice, or ghost- 
ly snow shrouds in the dark distance. We reached the Hotel 
Royal at nine and a half P. M., thoroughly tired with our 
eleven hours* ride. 

Fatigued with travel, I certainly felt no inclination to rise 
early the next morning ; and so, when a sonorous cow-bell 
passed, slowly sounding beneath our window at about four 
and a half A. M., I mentally anathematized the wearer, and 
composed myself for a renewal of sleep. Scarce comfort- 
ably settled ere another cow-bell, with a more spitefril clang, 


was heard approaelimg; clank, clink, clank, clink, like the 
chain abont a walking ghost, it neared the window at the 
foot of my coach, passed, and faded off into the distance. 
That's gone ; but what is this distant tinkle ? Can it be there 
is sleighing here, and this is a party returning home ? Tinkle, 
jinkle, tinkle, tinkle — there they come ! 

'* Away to the window I flew like a flash, 
Tore open " — the curtain, looked out through the sash, — 
'* When what to my wondering eyes should appear 

a procession of goats being driven to pasture by a girl in the 
gray light of the morning ! With an ejaculation more fervid 
than elegant, the couch was sought again ; but it was of no 
avail ; a now campanologian company was heard approaching 
with differently toned instruments of torture; this was in 
turn succeeded by another, till it seemed as if every note in 
the bell-ringing gamut had been sounded, and every contri- 
vance, from a church to a tea bell, had been rung. 

After half an hour of this torture, flesh and blood could 
endure it no longer, and I went once more to the window, to 
find that beneath it ran the path by which the goats and 
cattle of the whole district were driven to pasture, and, cast- 
ing my eyes upwards, saw the gorgeous spectacle of sunrise 
on Mont Blanc, whose glistening peaks were in full view. 
Half an hour's admiration of this spectacle was enough for 
one not clad for the occasion, and having made the discovery 
that the cows and goats were all driven to pasture before 
half past six A, lUL, we took our revenge in two hours of tired 
nature's sweet restorer after that time, before discussing 
breakfast and topographically examining Chamouny. 

Chamouny appears to be a village of eight or ten hotels, a 
church or two, and a collection of peasants' huts and poor 
Swiss houses, surrounded on all sides by the grandest and 
most sublime scenery ever looked upon. It seems to be a 
grand central point in Switzerland for the tourists of all nar 
tions. The great hotels are fiill, their taUe d^hotes are noisy 


with the clacter of tongaes of half a dozen nationalities, and 
gay with the fashions of Paris. The principal portion of the 
inhabitants are either employes of the hotels, or guides, and 
these Chamoony guides are the best, most honest, and most 
reliable of then craft in Europe. They are formed into a 
regular association, and bound by very strict rules, such as 
not being permitted to guide until of a certain age, not to take 
Hhe lead till after a certain amount of experience ; and absolute 
honesty and temperance being requisite for the service. In- 
deed, I find that some consider honesty a characteristic of 
the Swiss in this region ; for upon my remonstrating with a 
fellow-tourist, an old traveller, for leaving his watch and chain 
exposed upon his dressing-table during his absence from his 
room at the hotel, he replied there was no danger, as the at- 
tendants in the wing of the house he occupied were all Swiss, 
and no English, French, or Americans ever came there. To 
be a guide upon the excursions firom Chamouny requires a 
man of very steady habits, and of unquestionable skill and 
endurance ; and all of these men that we saw appeared so. 
They are very jealous also of their reputation, and never al- 
low it to be injured by incompetency, dishonesty, or any 
species of imposition upon travellers. 

Here we are in the midst of Alps, a whole panorama of 
them in full view on every side. The River Arvc, a dark- 
colored stream fresh from the glaciers, roars and rushc?^ 
through the valley into which Chamouny seems sunk. 
Above us are great mountains with snowy peaks; great 
mountains with dark-green pines at their base, and splintered, 
gray, needle-like points ; glittering glaciers, like frozen rivers, 
can be seen coming down through great ravines ; waterfalls 
arc on the mountain-sides ; and towering up like a gigantic 
dome, the vastness and awful sublimity of which is inde- 
scribable, is Mont Blanc, which the lover of grand mountain 
scenery will pause and gaze at, again and again^ in silent awe 
and admiration. But whither shall we go ? There are dozens 
of excarsions that may be made. Looking acrosp a level 
pasture of the valley from our window, we see a wateiiall 



,«■» 4r'"''"' C'. •»" / T^N.J^'Va^*''' Oft ■-<" 

^^ tift •, *^"^ t/>^ ,^^ ^Oitie. ^ ^iJrl *^^"tites ride acrosR +u 
fetti '«SeC Vo>«0 j5^ *fa«n we began to ::e:^« 

ice , , ci-a* l"^' a^e^^es ^f .t.^*^cK„ "» ^rt caxtV^-sWae, an* 


to some extent, they are ; and a marked instance of — •-Vka 
fying the dangers is shown in the account of Miss ^'^ v.'cli 
Bremer's experience, quoted in Harper's Guide-Book, "^ -tlie 
to any one of ordinary nerves, who has recently jao^^^^ 
passage, appears to be a most ridiculous piece of sSect^^^ ood 
We descended the rocky sides of the cUfl^ seanci^*^ .^^^ 
creased by the ice-flood, and stood upon the great ^^-j-tV 
At first, near the shore, it seemed like a mixture o* y^«^^^, 
snow and ice, such as is frozen in a country road after ^ ^^ 

and its surface but slightly irregular, and but little tvo^^ -^^ 
be anticipated in crossing; but as we advanced far i'^ nes^ 
centre, we began to realize more forcibly the appropri^ ^ ^^ 
of the title given to this gi'eat ice-field. On every 8i<i^ ^ of 
were frozen billows, shai*p, upheaved points, great Bp^ \y\xt^& 
ice, congealed waves, as if a mighty toiTcnt were *'^ . ^3. ^^ 
down this great ravine, and had been suddenly a^'^^ otr^^"^**^* 
the wand of the ice-king in mid career. We catl^® ^ e ^^ ^'^w 
ees, — broad splits, — revealing the clear, clean, \)V^^ - ^o^ ^^^^ .^v 
looked hundreds of feet down into them. \V"^ ^^vkv^"^^ ^ ^^^ 
passed some of them on narrow ice-bridges, XkO^ o"^^ ^!C^>^^ 
two or three feet wide, where notched steps -^^ ^^ jft-^^?^ -.^^^^^ 
by the forward guide's hatchet, and we hel<\ t^x^0 S^^^ *tv 

of one before and one behind, to guard agsix^^ 'V^e'^^^*^^ 

might have been fatal. ^^ ^ ^ /f-^^o^'i* 

' We passed little pools, which were melt^^ * z^^ \ot^ 

of this silent field, and now and then a hug^ >-!^^ ^/f i^ a. ^^^ 
the midst of a pellucid pool, which had V>^ ^^^^^^^^^P^^^fo^^ 
upon the surface of this slow-moving streactx ks*^^ ^^^ yf//^^ co^ 
the mountain-side, and gradually sank by iti^ ^^^^^ ^r^ % ^^ 

action of the sun. Midway, we were bidde^^ -F^^^f:^ ^^^ ^ 1)'^^ 
away up the ravine, and see the frozen str^ -|^,^^^^-^ J:^ ^^^ ^/^'^ e^^^ 

enough now — waves, mounds, peaks, Wll^J^^^ s^ ^r ^\ 

ing tumbling down towards us. There ^^i^*" ^^t^^^^/^/^^ i^^ 
enough now — waves, mounds, peaks, hilX^-. ^ ^^ ^r ^\t^ 
sheets, and foaming masses. It sparkled lij^ ^> ^J^Y ^ 

the sunbeams between the dark framex^r^^ ^^X^"^^^ ^/^ aW 
mountains on either side. We stopped t-^^ <^ ^^i^ 
sound was heard. The stillness was as pr<>:f^ 



preceding a thunder stoim ; and, as we listened, the crash of 
a great boulder that had become loosed by the slow-moying 
torrent, falling into a crevasse £-om its brink, echoed for a 
moment in the solitude, and all was still again. 

The sure-footed guides, with their iron-spiked shoes, led us 
on. The ladies were a trifle nervous as we passed one or 
two of the narrower ice-bridges ; but on the route we crossed 
there were not above three or four such, and the whole pas- 
sage was made in less than an hour. Arrived at the other 
side, we clambered up the clif^ and began our descent. I 
should have remarked, that we sent back the mules fi'om 
Montanvert, to meet us upon our descent on the other side 
of the Mcr de Glace, on foot, by the way of the Mauvais 
Pas, a tiresome, but most interesting tramp of three or four 
miles, over rugged rocks and rough pathways, but such a 
one as gives real zest to Alpine journeys, from its exciting 

We now entered upon the celebrated Mauvais Pas. I 
had read so much, from youth upwards, about the dangers of 
this pass, that I began to wonder if we had done right in 
bringing ladies, and how we should get around that sharp 
projection of the cliffj where a traveller is said to be obliged 
to hold on to the face of the rock, and stretch his leg around 
th*e projecting clifl^ and feel for a foothold, the guides guard- 
ing him from a slip out into empty space, by standing, one 
on each side of the projection, and forming an outside hand 
rail, by holding each end of an alpenstock. Was not this 
the pass where the Swiss hunter met the chamois, and, find- 
ing that neither could turn backward, had lain down and let 
the herd jump over him ? 

But how these travellers' tales and sublime exaggerations 
vanish as one approaches them ! The Mauvais Pas may have 
been tree mauvais many years ago ; but either its dangers 
have been greatly exaggerated, or the hand of improvement 
has rendered it pas mauvais at present. It is a scries of 
steps, hewn for some distance along the rocky side of the 
mountain. These steps are about three feet in width from 


the face of the clifij into which a strong iron rail is fastened, 
by which the traveller may hold on, the whole distance. 
The outer edge is unprotected, and, at some points, it must 
be confessed, it is an ugly look to glance down the tremen- 
dous heights to the jagged rocks below, that fomi the shores 
of the icy sea ; but in some of the more dangerous places, 
modem improvement has provided an additional safeguard 
in an outer rail, so that the danger is but trifling to persons 
of ordinary nerve. 

Finally, we reach the end of this narrow pathway, and 
find ourselves at a small house on a jutting precipice, called 
the Chapeau; and here we pause and breathe a while, buy 
beer, Swiss bread and honey, curious Alpine crystals, &q^ 
and enjoy another one of those wondrous Alpine views 
which, once seen, live in memory forever as a scene of sub- 
lime beauty and grandeur. 

They call all the mountain peaks needles here. There were 
the Aiguilles de Charaioz, ten thousand two hundred feet 
high, and ever so many other ^aiguiUes^^ whose names I have 
not noted. As we looked down here upon the glacier it 
seemed to be more broken and upheaved ; it rose into huge 
sharp, icicle-pointed waves, rent in every direction by large 
cracks and fissures ; the gi*eat pointed pinnacles and upheav- 
als assumed as curious appearances as the frost-work upoA a 
window ; there were a procession of monks, the pinnacles of 
a Gothic cathedral, and the ruins of a temple. It is here that 
the Mer de Glace begins to debouche into the Glacier des 
Bois, which, in turn, runs down into the Chamouny valley 
and from which runs the Arveiron ; in fact, the end of this 
glacier is the river's source. 

Down we go through the woods, and finally strike upon a 
rocky, rugged path, on through a mass of miles of pulverized 
rock, fi'agments of boulders, stone chips, and the rocky debris 
of ages, which has been brought down by the tremendous 
grinding of the slow-moving glaciers, till we reach a valley 
covered with the moraine in front of the great ice arches of 
the Glacier des Bois, out of which rushes the rirer, 01 

4 i "« oo, '^'o 06, °°°'to tK ^\ a<.ca>™<.««,. 


omantic, pleasant, and pietiiresqixe, ^with deeij 
ae-clad mountains, crags, and "w^atteirfalla 1 
be fresh mountain air, we left otxt* ^ 
in with the guides and ladies axkd 1 ^ 
ed forward on foot, keeping i^x ^^^^^^^^^1^ 
having an infinitely better oppoirt "^^^^^ ^' 
r a tourist who had been OAroir -fc^^^^^' ^^Jider 
lenery. We passed two oi- t:lxr» ^^^te, of 

pot noted as being swept by stA^a.1 ^^^^rfalls, 

lere was a cross in memoiy of ^^ ^^^uea in ^^j^^ 

who fell beneath one: th^ fTxxirl^^^^^^ ^ount 
3 heard approaching, it is ^xlr-osx^a^^ ^^^' "^'^^ 
ig, so swift is its career, aix<a xxotV^- ^^^ ^^^^ ^ 
?nce will save the traveller £i.-c>i"r^ ^^^J^iig \j^^ , 
rried us through a wild, stoxi-sr^T^^r^^tion.^ 1 

I on either side, and the i^^eAri^^^-^^ "^^^'^Uie x»^* v 
and foaming over the rock:^^ »-J-^^ **iver in +v 1 

beautiful mountain path, --^.^ -"^en xv^ ^^ \ 

listant mountains, with d.e^^r>^^^^^^<iitio' « 
nd the base of the T^te 3^c>i^ ^]?^^^® ^ 1 
►ods, and a tunnel, pierce^ ^^ "^^^^^tai ^^^ 
untain, that jutted out uporx "^^u^^^^ a *^ ^^^ 
IS, from one point on our jo^ *^^ Pass ^^^^ 

It was the route to the Pass of ^^' ^^e - ^ 
t another, looked far dowo. • ^^^e Oi^ ^^^1^* 
see the River Trient nisHi^ ^"^^to ^Iio ^^^^ ®^ 
(Ve soon came to a point, "bof^ ^^<3 ^Uzzihj'^^* 
Lch commanded a view of tU^ ^"f ^^^'^'^^^ic^^ \ 

ad out, seemingly, as flat as ^^ ^ *^o^e r^^jj^ ^ \ 

g through its entire length, tix^^j^.^ ^^Jt/x t/^^ 
looking rather hot in the bla^^ ^ X ^^^ <^A=7 A,^ ^ 
lew of this valley —what littlo h- ^^^^Z/i? 
lis distance than when one i'oac)i ^ f'^^oA/ ^^ 
[ poor inhabitants. ^® 't» f^ "^* 

^n a pleasant descent, past orch ^ ^ 

cached Martigny, where ire had ^^^f. 
voured by mosquitos, so that at ^?^Per^^' 

^^'i \ 


we were glad to take the railway train. How odd it seemed 
to be rattling over a railroad, in a comfortable railway carriage, 
after our mountain experiences I The train, at quarter past 
ten oVlock, landed us at Sion, where we took up our quarters 
at tlie Hotel de la Poste, an Italian inn, with an obsequious 
little; French landlord, who was continually bowing, and rub- 
bing his hands, as if washing them with invisible soap, and 
saying, " Owt, monaieur^^ to every question that was asked 
him, and withal looking so like the old French teacher of my 
boyhood^s days, that it seemed as though it must be the old 
fellow, who had stopped growing old, and been transported 
here by some mysterious means. 

The fifteen-mile mountain tramp I had made, and the day's 
journey, as a whole, caused the not very comfortable beds of 
the hotel to seem luxurious couches soon after arrival, and 
we therefore deferred interviews with Italian drivers, a crowd 
of whom were in attendance from Stressa, via the Simplon 
Road, and who were anxious to open negotiations, till the 
next morning, notwithstanding their assertions that they 
might be engaged and gone when we should come down to 
breakfast, and that we should, therefore, lose the magnificent 
opportunities they were offering. 

We were fortunate in having the company of a gentleman 
who had frequently been over this route, and fully understood 
the modus operandi of making contracts with Italian post 
drivers, as will be seen. It seems that there are often drivers 
here at Sion who have driven parties from Stressa (via the 
Simplon) who desire to get a freight back, and with whom 
the tourist, if he understands matters, can make a very reason- 
able contract, as they prefer to take a party back at a low rate, 
rather than to wait long at an expense, or return with empty 
vehicles. If there be more than one (as in our case) of these 
waiting post drivers, there is likely to be a competition among 
them, which of course results to the tourist's advantage* 

Therefore, after breakfast, instead of '^ having been engaged 
and gone," we found two or three anxious drivers, who jab- 
bered with all their might about the merits of their respective 

oon marche -.» .**_. . - .,f "Ja 

■ty ofsevea 



'• at, flrgt was ft"^,/!"/ 
f°t the Ibree daf ifJl\ 

= ! forwhea S.^° ^"^"^ ^°' Ll^^l^ 

dow.„ntSi l^T^f °f ^^-^ ^„ -.< 
=d upon by dr. ' Port.i<=° ^° 

« would be mo°' '"'<' «-* 
e price was ^ *^ *^arria.^^ 
hepartof^- °7n t, «i3 

■, ivho.e team }, 2"'' '» •'^ ,^— »_,<«i ■o^oc 

», propo,»a tT^'' J Ixseit ^__ =c»^>. X?SC«^ <• 

ritiug, wUoh /'">S the ^e--^^^^=--^^j. *^ii| 

>ntract was <J^/* *»eccs» -*^^*' "'^^■^^T^ 

«r'« party b^ >,„*" •''gne^^ — 

and the oalta . "^y f" ,.- ■<=/>-,- * 

me a lithe, el^' '"**" *^a^^« '=3«^/ i 

early epazj- b v V"° Amer 3f*^ *»^» c>» ^"^ 

ring the wholo"«-r>-ing- ^Z^*» ^^^J^ ~^ 
'. .tarting at o„r>=»rty -"^"i-, ■^^bi^^^-C<^ 
.keoutthe bi,°J°-.«nd *%3rf>$'s,^^ 

oitraathat,^ 5.Tvlthoi»*^„S- ^Jjl^*" 

at the driver, ^I^'-'t hi*'*^ <; »=>« V^ 
he hoi.cs, j.ibj^ "o, wit»»_ _ -.^^O Vv, 
.half an ho,., ^"-ofl j, :*?-J^ <.^->v ^V 
.trapped on bebjS ^<«^ » "^V^ ^V*»^ V 

porten bowio'«<S. and *^ »i -c^ V^V "^ 
>f whip smaolca*'^ °* *ha -"^^^ ^ '''** 

leae craokerH, ' ®**Undi^c^*^-^ 

and , 


432 THB ^tf^ ^Abb. 

during tlie winter season. ^ ^ ^t of the road is said to 
have averaged over three thoti^ u pounds sterling per mile. 
The splendid engineering exCi^^S admiration from even the 
inexperienced in those matters. You go sometimes right up 
the very face of a steep mountain, that would seem to have 
originally been almost inaccessible, by means of a series of 
zigzags. Then again the road winds round a huge mountain 
wall, thousands of feet high on one side, with a yawning 
ravine thousands of feet deep on the other. Long tunnels 
pierce through the very heart of mountains. Bridges span 
dizzy heights and mad torrents. Great galleries, or shelters, 
protect some parts of the road, which are suspended midway 
up the mountain, from the avalanches which ever and anon 
thunder down from above. At one place, where a great roar- 
ing cataract comes down, the road is conducted safely under 
the sheet, which scatters but a few drops of spray upon it, ex- 
cept the covered portion, as it leaps clear over the passage, and 
plunges into the deep abyss below, a mass of thundering foam. 

This part of the road, we were told, although it was a sec- 
tion not six hundred feet long, was one of the most difSicult 
to construct, and required the labor of a hundred men for 
over a year and a half before it could be completed, it being 
necessary in some places to suspend the workmen by ropes 
from above, until a platform and a footing could be built. 
And, indeed, standing there with the torrent roaring above, 
and leaping clear over our heads away down into that rocky 
gorge, the clean, broad road the only foothold about there, we 
oould only wonder at human skill, perseverance, and ingenuity 
in overcoming natural obstacles. From the great glaciers far 
above the Kaltwasser come several other rushing cascades, 
one of which, as you approach, seems as if it would drop 
directly upon the road itself but hits just short of it, and 
plunges directly under, so that you can stand on the arched 
bridge, and look right at it, as it comes leaping fiercely to- 
wards you. 

Murray gives the bridges, great and small, on this wonder- 
ful road between Brieg and Sesto as ^six hundred and 


eleven, in addition to the far more vat 
tions, Bucli as terraces of massive ma£ 
ten galleries, either cut out of the living 
stone, twenty houses of refuge to sheltei 
the laborers constantly employed in tak 
Its breadth is throughout at least twen 
places thirty feet, and the average slope i 
inc])cs in six feet and a half." 

After emerging from the Kaltwasser ( 
had a superb view of the Rhone Valley, 
we had left in the morning, directly benea 
across the valley, distinctly visible in the 
rose the Bernese Alps, with the Breithorn, ai 
the great Aletsch Glacier distinctly visible, 
point of the pass is the Hospice, over six the 
dred feet above the level of the sea ; and hei 
a lunch, and then trudged on in advance, lea\ 
and ladies to overtake us — enjoying the wild 
tant snow-capped mountains, great glaciers, 
pouring from their ruffled edges to the green va 
far below. 

Soon after passing the little village of Simple 
the never-to-be-forgotten ravine of Qondo, ope o 
g^deat, and moat magnificent goiges in the 
The ravine, as you proceed, grows narrower ai 
with its huge, lofty walls of rock rising on either 
furious River Diveria rushes through it like a \ 
white-plumed cavalry at full gallop, and its thundi 
not unlike the tremendous rush of their thousand 
as it goes up between these massy barriers. ITb^ 
rows till there is nought but road and tiver V^^^^ 
crags jutting out over the pathway, and ^^ *oot^^ ^ 
black mass that seems a barrier directly acr ' t 5 ^^\ 
' this the determined engineers have l>ored * i> ^^^ 
we ride through a tunnel of six hundred. ^^ t%P^^ 
in length, to emei^e upon a new snrpria^*^^ ^^^ ^^^ ' 
called forth a shout of admiration fiv^vr^ ^ ^^ ^ ^^ 

28 ^^ryol>^ 

484 FBBBSiNONE watbrb'.aj:'^' i?^^\ 

As we emerged from this dark, rocky S^^^ ^^B>t ^m^ | 
towering masses of rock on either side, Vk^ ^ . * ^^ ^^ ^ ' 
granite upholding the blue masomy of beaV^^f rjj^Saie^ 
bent like a vaulted arch above ; and from one Si(i ; ^^ ^^ 
our very path, coming from far above with a roar llko tbiicder^ 
leaped, a mass of foam, like a huge cascade of snowy ostrich 
plumes — the Fressinone Waterfall, which tossed its fine, 
scintillating spray upon the slender bridge that spanned the 
gorge, while the roaring cataract itself passed beneath, strik- 
ing sixty or eighty feet below upon the black rocks. It is a 
magnificent cascade, and prepared us for the grandeur of the 
great gorge of Gondo, with its huge walls of rock rising two 
thousand feet high, which seemed, when we were hemmed in 
to their prison walls of black granite, as though there was no 
possible way out, except upwards to the strip of sky that 
roofed the narrow ravine. 

Other cascades and waterfalls we saw, but none like the 
magnificent Fressinone, with the gracefrd and apparently 
slender-arched bridge, that almost trembled beneath its rush 
as we stood upon it — the huge rocky walls towering to 
heaven, the black entrance to the tunnel just beyond, looking^ 
in the midst of this wild scene of terrific grandeur, like the 
cavern of some powerftil enchanter — the wild, deep gorge, 
with the foaming waters swifi;ly gliding away in masses of 
tumbling foam far below, and all the surroundings so grand 
and picturesque as to make it no wonder that it is a favorite 
study for artists, as one of the most spirited of Alpine 

We passed the granite pillar that marked the boundary- 
line, and were in Italy; and soon after at the mountain cus- 
tom-house and inn, where we were to dine. The ofiicials are 
very polite, make scarce any examination whatever of the 
luggage of tourists ; and our trunks remained undisturbed on 
the travelling carriage while we dined. 

Now we begin to ride towards the valley, and soon begin 
to have Italian views of sunny landscape and trellised vines. 
We reach the town of Domo d' Ossela, and our driver pro- 

486 Air ITALIAK nor, 

jingling their bells and harnesses; tourists, hunting up log* 
gage ; or couriers, arranging matters for the trayelling par* 
ties they were cheating. 

The &tigue of a day's mountain ride, and continued sigbt- 
seeing, however, made us sleep soundly, despite any of these 
noises. Of aU fatigues, the tourist ere long discoTcrs the 
fatigue of a constant succession of sight-seeing to he the 
most exhausting; so that he soon comes to regard a tolerably 
good bed and dean room as among the most agreeable expe- 
riences of his journey. In the morning we were escorted to 
the carriage with many bows by the young Italian landlord, 
and his wife, who, with one of those splendid oval &oeF 
beautiful hair descending in graceful curve to and away from 
her rich, pure brunette complexion, her wonder&l great lus- 
trous eyes, a head such as one seldom sees, except in a paint- 
ing or upon a cameo, made every Englishman or American, 
when he first saw her, start with surprise, utter something to 
his neighbor, and always look at her a second time, evidently 
to the landlord's gratification, for he did not seem to have a 
particle of the traditional Italian jealousy about him — pe^ 
haps he had been married too l<Hig. 

The landlord and his wife sidd something very pretty by 
way of a farewell, no doubt, for there -were ^gradas^ 
*^buonoB^ ^addios^ and some other words, which I remember 
having heard sung by singers at the opera, in his speech, to 
which our driver responded with a royal salute of whip- 
cracks, and we dashed out of the court-yard once more on 
our journey. 

Our road now lay through the Italian valley, and we pass 
y ogogna, Omavasso, and other towns, and things begin ^ 
wear a decidedly Italian aspect — the grape trellises, with 
their clustering fruit; hal^ruined dwellings, with stucco work 
peeling off them ; tiie general greasy, lazy, half-brigandisb 
look of the men ; and the partiality fi)r high colors in dress 
on the part of the peasant women. Fresh firom the invigo- 
rating air of the Alpine passes, we felt the fiill. force of the 
Italian sun. Althou^ late in August, the weather is &<>^ 


. m le pleasure^^**^ T 
coming from the water, and the uwi« r ^^ thither— ^ 

their Btrif)ed awnings, were gliding hi ,t^ ^^ ^rown-rohe^ 
aaw come down the road for his evening ^ ^^ opposi*^ 

barefooted, rope-girdled, shaven friWj *°^ . - pQinted hat, 
direction, a Uttle dark-skinned Italian lad, ^^^^^^ ^ his 
decorated with gay ribbons, rough leggings ^ ^^ 

knee, and a mandolm in his hand, it seemed, m ^^^ ^^ 
dreamy, hazy atmosphere, that I was looking ^P^ Vv *ruck 
painting. The effect was heightened when the wy ^^ 
his instrument, and began to sing— and beautiimiy 
sing, too. I have heard worse singing by some "^^^^^^^^^ 
were in large letters on the opera bills. The friar halted, 
and leaned on a gray rock at the road-side to listen, while ne 
toyed absently with his rosary. Two or three peasant girlS) 
in their bright costumes, and one with an earthen jar on her 
head, paused in a group, and a barelegged boatman, in a red 
cap, rested two tall oars upon the ground, the whole forming 
so picturesque a group as to look as if posed for a picture. 

How pleasant is an evening sail on this lovely lake 1 how 
romantic are Isola Bella and its sister islands 1 how like a 
soft, di-eamy picture is the whole scene I and how all the sur- 
roundmgs seemed exactly fitted to harmonize with it!— a 
purely Italian scene, the picturesque beauty of which will 
long linger in the memory. 

We had a delightful sail from Stressa, al 
Maggiore to Sesto Calende, heard the Iwe t^ ^^^^ ^^ 
vent bells come musically across its glassv f/i ^^^^^ ^^ ^n- 
behind which we could see the colossal b ^' P^^^ed Arena, 
Carlo Borromeo, sixty-six feet high, pi^ a^^ statue of San 
forty feet in height, lookmg like an'ij^j^^ ^V^^ a pedestal 
hand stretched out towards the lake f ^^^ S^ant, with it 
it stands. From Sesto Calende the raM ^ ^'^^ ^ oi^ v v 

us to Milan, where we were landed ir. ^^^ train ^? 

e, — J , — — paint -i' ^'^^ ceiliyt^ 

executed allegorical pictures and Xtaj* ^ ^t\\ \ 8^ ^W 

Station, the waiting rooms large an<j i^^^^S^ce,.^ ^m^^ 
gantly frescoed, and the walls T>a5»,t^y> the o^v ^^^ay 

one the idea that he had arrived ii^ ^["^^^ ^aji^Q^^autifii\\^ 

lOLAK. 439 

)-aintmg was a drug in the market, so lavishly was it used in 
this manner in the railway stations. 

Oar rooms at the Hotel Cavour look out on a handsome 
sqaare and the public gardens. In the square stands a statue 
of Cavour, upon a pedestal placed at the top of a set of 
granite steps. Upon these steps, seated in the most natural 
position, is a bronze figure of the genius of fame or history 
(a female figure) represented in the act of inscribing Cavour's 
name with her pen upon the bronze pedestaL And so nat- 
ural is this representation, that strangers who see the group 
in the evening for the first time, often fancy that some unau- 
thorized person has got into the enclosure, and is defacing 
the statue. 

The first sight to be seen in Milan is the cathedral ; and 
before this magnificent architectural wonder, all cathedrals I 
have yet looked upon seem to sink into insignificance. 

A forest of white marble pinnacles, a wilderness of elegant 
statues, an interminable maze, and never-ending mass of 
bewildering tracery, greets the beholder, who finds himself 
gaping at it in astonishment, and wondering where he will 
begin to look it over, or if it will be possible for him to see it 
all. The innumerable graceful pinnacles, surmounted by 
. statues, the immense amount of luxurious carving prodigally 
displayed on every part of the exterior, strike the visitor 
with amazement. Its architecture is Gothic, and the form 
that of a Latin cross ; and to give an idea of its size, I copy 
the following authentic figures of its dimensions : ^ Tlie 
oxtreme length is four hundred and eighty-six feet, and the 
breadth two hundred and fifty-two feet ; the lengtli of the 
transept two hundred and eighty-eight feet, and the height 
inside, from pavement to roo^ one hundred and fifty-three 
feet ; height from pavement to top of the spire, thi*ee hun- 
dred and fifty-five feet." 

Aller taking a walk around the exterior of this wonderful 
structure, and gazing upon the architectural beauties of the 
great white marble mountain, we prepared to ascend to the 
roof before visiting the interior. 


This ascent is made by a broad white marble staircase of 
one hondred and fifty-eight steps, the end of which being 
reached, the visitor finds himself amid an endless variety of 
besCUtifal pinnacles, flying buttresses, statues, carvings, and 
tracery. Here are regular walks laid out, terminating in or 
passing handsome squares, in the centre of which are life-size 
statues by Canova, Michael Angolo, and other great sculptors. 
You come to points commanding extensive views of the 
elegant flying buttresses, which are beautifully wrought, and 
present a vista of hundreds of feet of white marble tracery 
as elegant, elaborate, and bewildenng as the tree frost-work 
of a New England winter. 

Here is a place called the " Garden," where you are sur- 
rounded by pinnacles, richly ornamented Grothic arches, flying 
buttresses, with representations of leaves, flowers, pome- 
granate heads, tracery, statuary, and ornaments in such prod- 
igaUty as to fairly excite exclamation at the profuseness dis- 
played. In every angle of the building the eye meets new 
and Buiprising beauties, magnificent galleries, graceful arcs, 
and carved parapets, pointed, needle-like pinnacles, €k>thic 
arches, and clustered pillars. 

We come to where the carvers and stone-cutters are at 
work. They have a regular stone-cutters' yard up here on 
the roofj with sheds for the workmen and stone-carvers, and 
their progress is marked on the building by the fresher hue 
of the work. These old cathedrals are never finished ; their 
original plans are lost, and thei'e always seems to be some 
great portion of the work that is yet to be carried out. We 
should have got lost in the maze of streets, squares, and pas- 
sages upon the roo^ without a guide. 

A total ascent of five hundred and twelve steps carries the 
visitor to the platform of the great cupola, from which a fine 
view of the city is obtained, the plains surrounding it bounded 
by the girdle of distant, snow-capped mountains. Directly 
beneath can be seen the crucifoim shape of the gieat cathe- 
dral ; and looking down, we find that one hundred and thirty- 
six spires and pinnacles rise from the roo^ and that clustered 


OB and about them is a population of over thirty-Jive hundred 
statues. \ Nearly a hundred are said to be added each year 
hv the workmen. Amid this bewildering scene of architeo- 
t'lral wonders, it is not sui'prising that two hours passed* ere 
we thought of descending; and even then we left no small 
portion of this aerial garden, this marble forest of enchant- 
ment, with but the briefest glance. 

But if the roof was so beautiful, what must be the appear- 
ance of the interior of this great temple? 

It was grand beyond description ; the great nave over four 
hundred feet in length, the four aisles with their vistas of 
nearly the same length of clustered pillars — four complete 
ranges of them, fifty-two in all — supporting the magnificent 
vaulted arch one hundred and fifty feet above our heads. 
The vastness of the space as yon stand in it beside one of the 
great Gothic pillars, the base of which, even, towers up nearly 
as high as your head — the very vastness of the interior 
causes you to feel like a fly under the dome of St. Paul's. 
An idea of the size of this cathedral may be had from the 
fact, that while workmen with ladder, hammer, and tools 
were putting up a painting upon the walls at one end of the 
church, the priests were conducting a service with sixty or 
seventy worshippers at the other, undisturbed by the noise 
of hammer or metal tool, the blows of which, even if listened 
for, could scarce be heard beyond a faint click. 

A good opera-glass is a necessity in these great cathedrals, 
a good guide-book is another ; and I find the glass swung by 
its £»trap beneath one arm, and the tourist's satchel beneath 
the other, positive conveniences abroad, however snobbish 
they may appear at home. 

There are five great doorways to the church, and the 
visitor's attention is always called by the guide to the two 
gigantic pillars near the largest door. These are single 
columns of polished red granite, thirty-five feet high and 
four feet in diameter at the base; they support a sort of bal« 
cony, upon which stand the colossal figures of two saints. 
All along the sides of the cathedral are oliapels, elegant mar 

442 ^ woiT^ ^ Statue. 

ble altars and allar tombs, ^ l^P^raed with statues and pic- 
tures. The capitals of man^ ^^ the great columns have finely 
carved statues grouped about them ; some have eight, and 
others more. The ceiling of the vaulted roo^ which, firom 
the pavement, appears to be sculptured stone-work, is only 
a clever imitation in p^ting ; but the floor of the cathedral 
is laid out in mosiac of diflerent colored marbles. 

With what delight we wandered about this glorious inte- 
rior ! There was the great window, with its colored glass, rep* 
resenting the Virgin Mary's assumption, executed by BertinL 
Here were the monument raised by Pius IV. to his brothers, 
cut from fine Carrara marble, except the statues, after Michael 
Angelo's designs ; the pulpits, that are partly of bronze work, 
and elegantly ornamented with bass-reliefs which encircle 
two of the great pUlars, and are themselves held up by huge 
caryatides; numerous monuments, amoxig them the bright- 
red marble tomb of Ottone Visconti, who left his property to 
the Knights of St. John, who erectpd this monument; the 
beautiful carved stalls of the chou*, the high altar and mag- 
nificent Gothic windows behind it. 

In the south transept is the celebrated statue of St. Bar- 
tholomew, who was flayed alive, and who is represented as 
having undergone that operation and taking a walk, with his 
own skin thrown carelessly over one arm, after the manner 
of an overcoat which the weather has rendered oppressive 
to the wearer. But this statue can hardly fail to chain the 
spectator some moments to the spot, on account of the hid- 
eous accuracy with which every artery, muscle, and tendon 
appear to be represented. 1 had never thought before how 
a man might look when stripped of that excellent fitting gar- 
ment, the cutis vera; but this statue gave me as correct an 
idea of it as I ever wish to obtain. It is said to have been 
executed by the great sculptor Phidias, and to be wondcjful- 
ly coiTCCt in anatomical detail. The latter fact can hardly 
be doubted by any who look upon the marvellous skill which 
appears to have been exhausted upon every part of it Shock 
ing as it appeared, I found myself drawn, again and again, to 
to look upon it ; such is its effect as ft wondrous work of art. 

t. ^Ijere^'"' ^i '^^el' *« W *»» a Bpl^^^^ transparent 
^ Lf V tk^P tV ^t^t.^ w;*f :.Jlver, and ornament- 

444 HOABDS OF THE CMXX^^^" ^f^J 

seem a hideous mockery to trick out thes^ ^^ 0B^ 

with senseless trappings, now so useless to ^ '^^ ^^ f^ 

habitation of an immortal soul. We leave tb^^ ^ .^ ^ 

in his costly mausoleum, his narrow, eigbt-Sid^ ^^^ 

and its riches, representing one hundred and sixty tuOossnd 

pounds sterling, and follow our guide to view more of the 

wealth of the church. \ 

Here wo are in the saciisty, and the custodian shows lis 
two huge statues of St. Charles and St. Ambrose of solid 
silver, and their sacerdotal robes thickly studded with jewels ; 
magnificent silver busts, life-size, of other bishops; elegant 
gold candelabra ; goblets and altar furniture of rare and ex- 
quisite workmanship ; silver lamps, censers, chalices, &q^ of* 
those rare, delicate, and beautiful old patterns that were a 
charm to look upon ; missals studded with precious stones ; 
rich embroideries, rai'e altar-pieces, and one solid ornamental 
piece of silver-work, weighing over one hundred poimds. All 
these riches locked up, useless here, save as a sight to the 
wonder-seeking tourist ; while poor, ragged worahippers of the 
church of Rome are prostrating themselves without, before 
the great altar, from which they rise and waylay him as he 
passes out, to beseech him — the heretic — for a few coppers, 
for the love of God, to keep them from starvation. I can 
well imagine what rich plunder old Cromwell's bluff Round- 
heads must have found in the Roman Catholic cathedrals of 
England, although I have more than once mentally anathe- 
matized their vandalism, which was shown in defacing and 
destroying some of the most beautifrd specimens of art of tho 
middle ages. 

Tbe old Church of St. Ambrosio is an interesting edifice 
to visit, with its curious relics, tombs, altars, and inscriptions. 
The principal altar here is remarkable for its richness; its 
sides are completely enclosed in a strong iron-bound and 
padlocked sheathing, which, however, the silver key unlocked, 
and we found the front to be sheathed in solid gold, elegantly 
enamelled and ornamented, the back and sides being of solid 
silver; all about the border^ oomersy and edge4 w^re set every 


species of predons stones, cameos, and rich jewek. The 
ruhies, amethysts, topaases, &c., were in the rough, micut; but 
the goldsmith's work, carving and chasing, was elaborate, and 
the dirty friar who exhibited the sight, with small candles, 
about the size of pen-holders, stuck between his fingers, took 
much pride in pointing out the beauties of the work, and hold- 
ing his little candles so that their light might be the more 
effectual to display them. The back was all covered with 
representations of the principal events in the life of St. Am- 
brose, separated from each other by enamelled borders. 

We next went to the refectory of the Church of Santa 
Maria delle Grazie, and saw Leonardo da Yincrs celebrated 
punting of the Last Supper, the picture that we are all fiunil- 
iar with from childhood, from having seen it in Bibles, story- 
books, and engravings. In fact, it is t/ie picture of the Last 
Supper always referred to when the representation is spoken 
of. I could not go into raptures over this hal^e&ced fi-esoo^ 
which has had a door cut through one portion of it, has sus- 
tained the damage incidental to the refectory, being used as a 
cavalry stable, and has twice been nearly all painted over by 
bad artists since the great painter left it; and he, in his prep- 
aration of the wall for the painting, used a process which 
proved a failure, causing it to fade and flake off. Although 
this is the great ori^al, from which so many copies are taken, 
— and it is something to have seen the original, — 'we think we 
have seen more than one copy far more striking and more 
beautiful in its finish. 

A ramble through Victor Emmanuel's palace gave us an 
opportunity of seeing some fine pictures, the great state ball- 
room, elegantly-frescoed ceilings, and the rich furniture and 
tapestry, that one ere long begins to find are in some degree, 
when no historical association ia connected with them, so 
much alike in all palaces. The celebrated La Scala Theatre 
was closed for the season during our visit to MUan; but the 
custodians have an eye to business. They keep the lower 
row of gas-lights burning, turned low, and for a consideration 
turn on the gas, and light up the vast interior sufficiently tot 
visitors to get soniething of an idea of it. 


Notwithstanding its vast size, the excellcfrice of its into 1 
arrangements for seeing and hearing is rornarkable St rl 
ing upon the stage, we delivered a Shakes j>earian extract to" 
an extremely select but discriminating a^ifJience y^hn 
plause was liberally, and, need we add, deservedly bestowed" 
I know not how it may be when the hous^ ig filled 'th 
audience, but it appeared to us that its a^coustio t^i-^^^^:^ 
were remarkable, for a « stage whisper '• could be dS tin^ 
heard at the extreme rear of the centre o:f the first ^ 

boxes, while the echo of the voice seemed tr\ ^^^.^ 

1 *i. * ii. ^- retuTD to the 

speaker on the stage, as from a sounding-board K 

head, with marvellous distinctness. This house will >i i-q 

audience of thirty-six hundred persons. TKo ^i ^ ^ *^ 

the centre box to the curtain is Lety^ix feet j^^ST f h"" 

Stage, fifty-four feet; and depth of the Bta,^e beb* fi \^ ^ 

tain, one hundred and fifty feet— room eu^orK ^^^^^^ ^'^^' 
,.^. ' A' 1 rrx. 4^ ^^r^^^S^ lor the most 

ambitious scenic display. The form of tbe Krkn«^ • ., 

• • 1 *i u • i ^ 1. . ^ouse 18 the usual 

semicircle, there being forty-one boxes in each ro\«r tit 

those in the first row have small withdrawin cr ^^^ " ^^^ 
the Duke Somebody 8-h» a supper roo^i, in which his hLh- 
ness and friends partake of a petit aoupet* betw • v. ^ 
there being cooking conveniences for the t^i-o»x« ^. ^ ^^ts, 
same below. P'-eparatxon of the 

The brevity of our visit to Milan causes the d v 
devoted to the wonderfiil library, the Biblioteca A J \^** 
with its grand halls, its one hundred an<i fifv^r ^i. ^^^^^^s**"^** 

J • 1.* *v J • ^« ^y thousand vol- 

umes, and eight thousand manuscnpts, rsix^e aut • 

literary treasures, and the great halls of paintiu ^^^ ^^^ 
works of Guido, Paul Veronese, Raphael, j^^ y^ where the 
bens adorn the walls, to seem like a '^Oxx^jp^^ ^^ ^ "^^ 
our general rule being to see thoroughly what '^^^J ^°^ 
regretted that we had even attempted ffcese t\ir ^ ^^^> we 
galleries — places which, to anyone having an ®^®®^S 

ever for art or Hterature, it is Uttle less tj^^ ^ *^*® what- 
to be hurried through. ^ Aggravation 

By rail from Milan we came to a place about 
Como, where omnibuses conveyed us thj.ou<>i^ *i_^ ^iile from 

"S'i that hot, vile- 

. LAKE COHO. 447 

8m3lling, filthy Italian town to the pier on the lake, where the 
steamer was waiting our arrival, aiid which we were right 
glad to have paddle out into the lake from the vile odors that 
Borrounded us. But once out upon the hlue waters, and free 
from the offence to our nostrils, how charming was the scene ! 
The dirty city that we had left was picturesque on the undu- 
lating shore, with its old tower, spires, and quaint houses. 
As we sailed along, heautiful villas were seen on the shore, 
their fronts with marble pillars, their gardens with terraces 
rich in bcautiftil fiowers, and adorned with statues, vases, and 
fountains; marble steps, with huge carved balusters, ran 
down to the very water's edge, where awning-covered pleas- 
ure-boats were in waiting — just such scenes as you see on 
the act-drop at the theatre, and believe to be mere flights of 
artistic fancy, but which now are found to exist in reality. 

At a point where Lake Como divides into two arms, one 
extending to Como and the other to Lecco, we passed Bellag- 
gio, one of the most beautiful spots ever seen. It is on a high 
promontory at this point, commanding extensive views of the 
. lake and surrounding country. The promontory is covered 
with the elegant villas of wealthy people. 

There is something luxurious and charming in a sail upon 
this lovely lake, with the beautiful villas upon its shores, the 
vine-clad hills, with the broad-hatted peasant women seen 
among the grape-vines, white turreted churches, brown, dis- 
tant convents, fix)m which the faint music of the bell came 
softened over the water, the long reaches of beautiful land- 
scape view between the hills, the soft, blue sky, and the de- 
licious, dreamy atmosphere. A charming lake is Como, but 
with many objects, ^ 'tis distance lends enchantment to the 

A, boat put off from a romantic little cove for the steamer, 
which paused for its arrival Its occupants were a stalwart 
rower, in blue shirt, red cap, and black slashed breeches, a 
sort of Massaniello-looking fellow, who bent to the oars with 
a will, and a friar, with shaven crown and brown cowl, with 
cross and rosary at his waist Soon after we saw the holy 


AuBtrians, in 1821, in order to preserve for themselves a good 
passage over to Lombardy. We engaged our post carnage as 
usual, with a fair tcritten contract with the driver, — necessary 
when agreeing with an Italian, to prevent mistakes^ — and 
preliminaries being settled, started off with the usual rattle 
of whip-cracks, rode through pleasant scenery of vineyards, 
mountain slopes, and chestnut trees, and soon began to wind 
on our way upwards. Passing the custom-house in the little 
village of Campo Dolcino, thirty-three hundred feet above the 
level of the sea, we are again upon the beautifully engineered 
road of an Alpine pass, and at one point the zigzags were so 
sharp and frequent that the granite posts protecting the edge 
of the road presented the appearance of a straight row di- 
rectly in front of us, rising af an angle of forty-five degrees, 
although the real ascent by the numerous windings is com- 
paratively easy and apparently slight. 

As we went winding up, back and forth, we came in sight 
of the beautiful Madesimo Waterfall, seen fi'om various angled 
of the road pouring down from far above us to the valley be- 
low. Each turn gave us a dilfferent view. It was a succes* 
sion of pictures of valley and cascade, until we finally passed 
through a covered gallery, and our road led us past the cliff 
over which the level stream took its leap for its downward 

Leaving the carriage, we walked to a small projecting table 
rock directly overhanging the ravine, — a portion of the rock 
over which the stream falls, — where, leaning oxer tlae iron 
railing, — grasped, we confess, with a firm clutch> — ^^ looked 
down to the frothy foam of the waterfall, seven "tomdYed feet 
below. It was a fine point of view — an excit^^^ -^osiuon 
feel one's self so near a tembly dangerous \)\aC^» ^^^ I^ ud 
safe, to defy danger, enjoy the beauty of tibe ^^^^ ^ 
measure with the eye the great distance of Via \e^^\ Vjv^m^jec 

After leavmg here, we begin to entev ^ JaA ^^^ e\^^^^^' 
a dangerous, portion of the pass. This i^ ^^ f3^^ cjo^*^ ^^ 
Not only are the zigzags sharp and freovi ^^\ ^^^\v ^^'^^^ 
great covered galleries, made of solia. ^^^^ -^^ 

29 • ^^^^^onryt 


Toofky to cause avalanches, that are constantly precipitated 
from above, to slide off, and thus protect travellers and the 
road itself. The galleries are wonderful pieces of workman- 
ship. One of them is six hundred and fifty, another seven 
hundred, and a third fifteen hundred and thirty feet in length. 
They are lighted by openings at the sides. We have fine 
views of the lofty mountains all around, and the deep gorges 
torn by countless avalanches ; and now we reach one of the 
houses of refuge. We stand fifty-eight hundred and sixty 
feet above the level of the sea. The air is cold, and over- 
coats are comfortable. On we go, and at length shiver in the 
glacier's breath at the boundary line between Switzerland and 
Italy — the sunmiit of the pass^ six thousand eight handred 
and eighty feet above the sea. 


Okoe more we are in sight of the familiar snow-dads and 
ice-fields ; the glaciers are in sight in every direction ; there 
are the mountain peaks, the names all terminating with 
"horn." Our old friend, the Schneehom, shoots his peak 
ten thousand feet into the air, and the Surettahom lifts its 
mass of ice nine thousand three hundred feet high into the 
clear sunlight, and we are again amid the grand Alpine 
scenery I have so often described. Now we begin our de- 
scent, zigzag, as usual, through wild mountain scenery, till at 
last we whu-1 through a long gallery, and, with a salute of 
whip-snappings, enter the village of Spliigen ; through this, 
and out again into another grand Alpine landscape, taking in 
a view of the peaks of the Zapporthom and Einshom, eack 
over nine thousand feet high, and away off in the distance, 
the chalets of a Swiss village, perched in among the moun- 
tains. Down we go, at ftill trot, through the beautiftd Roffla 
Ravine, picturesque in the twilight, with its rocky walls, 


and its rattling cascades of the River Rhine dashing over the 
rocky bed. There is one place where there is barely room 
for tibe Rliine and the road to pass through the rocky gate- 
way of the pass. The scenery is wild, but at the same time 
there were trees, with luxuriant foliage, that were pleasant to 
the eye ; beautiful larches, black spruces, and other trees of 
that kind, softened the rough aspect of the mountains. 4 

We were not sorry to draw rein at dusk at the village of 
Andeer, where we had only a tolerable lodging, and a very 
bad breakfast ; after which we were once more on the road, 
and soon reached the valley of six streams, which glide down 
the mountains, on either side, to the green valley belo ^, with 
its pretty farm-houses and green pastures. Soon after ijeaving 
this, we enter upon the celebrated Via Mala. 

This narrow pass seems like a great cleft, cut by a giant's 
knife, into a huge loaf; the pathway through it, until 1822, 
was only four feet wide. The carriage-road and the river 
now seem as if squeezed into the gap, that might at any 
moment snap together and crush them. Huge .perpendic- 
ular rocky walls rise to the height of fifteen hundred feet 
on either side; the River Rhine runs through the gorge 
three hundred feet below the road, which crosses and re- 
crosses it three or four times by means of bridges ; the great 
walls of rock, in some places, seem almost to meet above, and 
shut out the ftdl light of day, the space is so narrow ; for the 
river forces its way through a cleft, only fifteen feet wide 
between the rock, and at one place there is a gallery, two 
hundred feet long, cut through the solid rock. Although the 
river is three hundred feet below the road, yet the cleft be- 
tween the mountain is so narrow that spring freshets will 
raise it a hundred feet or more. A woman, who, at the highest 
bridge, drops stones down to the tide below, for tourists to 
count ten before they strike the water, points out a maik 
upon one of the bridges, noting a remarkable rise of the river 
in 1834, when it came up nearly two hundred and fifty feet, 
to the arch of this bridge, and then solicits a few sous for hei 


This wild, dark, and gloomy gorge, with its huge over 
hanging curtains of solid rock, the pathway clinging to its 
sides, the roariig torrent under foot, arched bridges crossing 
its chasms, and tunnels piercing its granite barricades, is liter- 
ally a pathway wrenched through the mountain's everlasting 
wall. It cannot fail to make a profound impression by its 
g^omy grandeur and wild beauty, especially at one point, 
where the eye can sweep away through the gorge, as if look- 
ing through a vast rocky tube, and rest upon green, sunny 
slopes, and pleasant, smiling scenery beyond. 

We reach the pleasant village of Thusis, where the river 
Nolla flows into the Rhine ; and there is, from the bridge that 
spans it, a beautiful view of the valley in a ring of mountains 
and an old castle, the oldest in Switzerland, perched on a 
crag, high above the river. Here, at the Hotel Adler, rest 
and an excellent lunch were both obtained, after which the 
whip cracked good by, and we rattled on, through villages, 
and now and then over arched bridges, and past picturesque 
water-wheels, or little Roman Catholic churches, till at last 
we come to one great bridge of a single arch, crossing the 
Rhine near Reicehnau — a bridge eighty feet above the river, 
and two hundred and thirty-seven feet long. We pass the 
pretty village of Ems, and next reach Coire, where our car- 
riage journey ends, the driver is paid, and we enjoy the novelty 
of half an hour's ride by rail to Ragatz. 

Here, while enjoying a rest at sunset, we had fix>m the 
hotel balcony a glorious view of a long line of mountains, 
and a huge, flat wall of rock, upon which the setting sun 
strikes after streaming between two great mountains, and 
makes it look like a huge sheet of light bronze — one of 
those novel and indescribable eflects that you see only in 
the Alps. 

The great wonder here, and, in fact, one of the greatest 
wonders of Switzerland, is the Tamina Goige and PfaflTers 
Baths, which next morning we rode to see. A drive of two 
miles, through a wild, romantic gorge, — the road, a part of 
the distance, hewn out of the solid ledge, and the river tearing 


along o^cr its jagged bed of rocks below, — brought us to the 
hotel of the bath establishment (or, rather, it is the hotel and 
bath establishment combined), excellently kept and managed, 
and planted here between two great walls of rock on either 
side, six hundred feet high. The water is conveyed down to 
it from the hot springs in the gorge, about a quarter of a 
mile above, in pipes. Leaving the hotel, we ascend on foot 
* up through this wonderful crack in the mountains. It is a 
cleft, ranging in width from twenty to forty feet, the pathway 
a plank walk, five feet wide, affixed by staples to one side 
of the solid rock. 

These walls of rock rise to the height of fom or ^ve Kan- 
dred feet above the path, and, at some points, actually meet 
together overhead, while the narrow strip, or aperture, for 
most of the way, lets in light only sufficient to render visible 
a huge, black, awful chasm, the sides shiny, and dripping with 
moisture, and a torrent roaring, fifty feet beneath our path, 
waking a hundred strange echoes. This wild and wondrous 
passage b ^into the bowels of the land" a distance of 
eighteen hundred and twenty feet ; and sometimes the pas- 
sage brings us to where the action of the waters has hol- 
lowed out a huge, rocky dome, and the foaming river whirls 
round in a great, black pool, as if gathering strength for a 
fresh rush from its rocky prison. 

As we gradually approach the upper end of this wild gorge, 
and leave these weird chambers behind, we come to a point 
where clouds of steam are issuing from a cavern — a cave 
within a cavern — apparently the very pit of Acheron itself. 
Into this steaming grotto we penetrate. It is a vaulted cave, 
ninety feet in length ; a great natural steam-bath. Our visages 
were damp with perepiration, which started from every pore, as 
we stood at the brink of the hot spring, which was clear as crys- 
tal, scentless, and at a temperature of one hundred degrees Fah- 
renheit. One does not wish to remain in this cavern any length 
of time, unless fully prepared for a vapor bath ; consequently, 
we were soon outside, in the outer cavern or gorge again. The 
pipes conveying the waters from the springs to the bath-house 


and hotel run along the side of the rocky wall, next the plaak 
pathway. We retrace our steps back through this wondrous 
gorge, with its tall, rocky walls hundreds pf feet above our 
heads, and its foaming torrent leaping beneath us ; pass again 
beneath the granite dome, pass little weird grottos, and, 
through the narrow cleft; look away up to the strip of sky, 
shining like a band of blue satin ribbon over the gap, and 
finally emerge once more upon the open road, where our 
carriage is waiting. We returned over the romantic road 
that brought us to this great wonder of the Alpine re^on. 

From Ragatz we took train en route for Schaffhausen, via 
Sargans and Wallenstadt, passing the beautiful Serenbach 
Waterfall, and along the shore of the Lake of Wallenstadt, or 
Wallenstadt See, — as they call it here, — and which we had 
flitting and momentary glances of^ through the openings at 
the sides of the nine tunnels which the railroad train thun- 
dered through. But the landscape views all along this portion 
of the route of lake, mountains, waterfalls, valleys, and villages, 
formed one continuous charming picture. 

Our hotel, — the Schweizerhof, — at the Falls of Schaff 
hausen, is admirably situated for a view of these falls, which, 
however, will disappoint the American who has seen Niagara, 
and hears it stated (which I think is incorrect) that these are 
the finest falls in Europe. The actual fall of water is not 
above sixty feet, and appears at first to be even less than 
this, and it looks more like a series of huge rapids than a 
waterfall ; indeed, reminding one of the rapids above Niagara, 
though the descent is, of course, more abrupt. Right in the 
centre of the falls, dividing them into three parts, are two 
small but high islands of crag, accessible only by boats, and 
said to be very safely and easily reached by the boatmen in 
attendance at the shore, who were ready to take us to the 
middle island and to the old chateau on the opposite side, 
which is the best point of view, for the usual fee. 

We entered the boat, which was soon in the midst of the 
stream, and began a series of regular approaches to the rock, 
propelled by the muscular arms of the boatmen; but in the 



qoldst of theue boiling surges, lashing about us in evei-y direc- 
tion, and spatteiing us with their angry spray, as the rowers 
took advantage of certain eddies and currents, the appearance 
of the surroundings was decidedly dangerous, and it was 
with a long-drawn breath of relief that we heard the keel of 
the boat ^ate on the pebbles at the little landing at the foot 
of the central island. This waf> a tall mass of rock, and we 
climbed from point to point, by a not very diflScult ascent, till 
we reached the summit, some fifty feet above the boiling 
flood — a veiy favorable point of view, from whence the 
clouds of silveiy spray and the war of waters could be seen, 
and also a very fine view of the rapids and river above, which 
is about three hundred and fifty feet wide at this point. One 
of these rocks has a complete natural arch, ten or fifteen feet 
high, worn through it by the furious waters which leap, lash, 
and tumble about at the base of our rocky citadel. 

Descending, we took to the boat again, and started for 
the opposite landing. Taking advantage of the current, the 
boatmen pushed out into the swiftest part of it, and were 
swept with fiightftil velocity, in half a dozen seconds of 
time, over a space which, to accomplish on our approach, 
required nearly fifteen minutes. A few dexterous whirls, 
some steady pulling, and we were landed at the foot of the 
ascent to the Castle of Laufen, picturesquely situated on a 
wooded height above us, and a fine point of view. We 
ascended the path, and enjoyed the prospect from the bal- 
cony of the castle, and then looked at it through the stained 
glass windows of a summer-house on the grounds, and finally 
descended to a wooden gallery which is built out directly 
over the foaming abyss, and so near the rushing water that 
you may plunge your hand into the seething mass of waves. 
Indiorrubber overcoats are a necessity for this excursion, 
which ai-e provided by the owners of the place, and included 
in the fee of admission. 

The sensation of being in the midst of a great waterfall, 
and yet safe, is about as coirect a one, I should judge, as can 
be had, when you stand at the end of this protecting gallery 


in the shower of spray, the great bgdy of water rushing 
towards the point as if to overwhelm you, while you now 
and then receive a liberal dash of a huge wave, and the thun- 
der of the waters and nish of the torrent drown all other 
sounds, and render convereation impracticable. We enjoyed 
this defying of the torrent, the foam, rush and war of the 
waters, and the brilliant little rainbows which the sunlight 
formed in the clouds of spray, and then descended to the 
landing, to be rowed back to the opposite shore. 

This boat-passage to the central rock is said to be perfectly 
safe, but it certainly has not that appeai-ance, and it is one 
that a pei'son at all inclined to be timid would not caie to 
repeat. It has just that hint of the dangerous which gives 
the excursion a zest which a little peril seldom fails to pro- 
duce. Timid though you may be, you cannot help feeling 
exhilarated by the roaring of the waters and the quick dash 
of the spray all around you ; and the exultant emotion which 
you experience when you jump on shore, and witness, from a 
safe stand-point, the " perils you have passed," fidly compen- 
sates for the moment of suspense, when it seemed as though 
one misstroke of the boatmen would have dashed you into 

We left Schaffhausen at nine A. M. for Munich, had two 
hours and a half on Lake Constance, passed Augsburg, and 
at half past nine reached Munich. 

" Wave, Manich, all thy banners wave, 
* And charge with all thy chivalry " — 

Munich, with its magnificent art collections, its picture and 
sculpture galleries, its thousand artists.; Munich, with its 
bronze statues, the home of Schwanthaler, the city of broad 
streets, the capital of Bavaria, and the city that makes the 
best beer in all Europe. 

The great hotel, "The Four Seasons," was filled with 
guests, but good rooms were obtained at the Baierischcr Ho^ 
on the Promenaden Platz ; and our comfortable quiirtcrs were 
welcome indeed, after eleven hours' rapid journeying. The 

MUNICH. 467 

last portion of the way approaching Munich was dull enough, 
as it was over a broad, flat plain, with scarcely any trees, and 
the signs of life were confined to an occasional lonely shep- 
herd, with his dog, guarding a flock. ,In fact, Munich is 
built in the middle of a great plain, which is flat and unin- 
teresting, and the city itself is not considered healthy for 
Americans or English to reside in any length of time. It is, 
however, one of the European cities that have grown in size 
very rapidly the last thirty years, and the newer parts, built 
out into the plain, away from the old city, waiting for the gap 
between to fill up, remind the American traveller of cities in 
his native land. 

The first sights of all others in Munich to which the tour- 
ist turns his attention, are the art collections. The Glypto- 
thek is the gallery of sculpture, and the Pinacothek the pic- 
ture gallery ; and the admission to these superb and priceless 
collections is free to all. The buildings stand opposite to 
each other ; and, as we find how much this city owes to old 
King Louis for its position as a seat of the fine arts ; how 
many beautiful buildings, statues, galleries, public edifices, 
and streets, were built by his order ; and, still further, that 
the expenses of the Glyptothek and other collections were 
paid for from his own privy purse, — we feel inclined to look 
with a lenient eye upon the old monarch's regard for pretty 
women, and the Lola Montez scandal. 

The Pinacothek is a magnificent building, shaped like the 
letter I, and is divided off into nine splendid halls, devoted 
to different schools of art. Opening off or out of these halls 
are twenty-three smaller rooms, or cabinets, for the smaller 
pictures of each school. Thus there are three gi'eat halls 
devoted to the Italian school of art, two to the Dutch school, 
two to the Gorman, one to the French and Spanish, and a 
great central hall to Rubens. In these great halls the larger 
pictures are hung, and the light, which comes from the roof 
is well and artistically managed for displaying their beauties. 
In the cabinets are the ordinary sized and smaller paintings. 
But what a wealth of art! There are nearly fifteen hundred 



T^c. ^ ^^ ^^® most 

,^^a^ly all ^^ ^^^ 

titings, hundreds of them by 
irtists that ever lived, and 
>rou want time to study and a^xnv 
rican who has been shown an oooa. • 
ckened landscape, half otlitera.t.^R ^^i^^ oV^ S^iivgy 
Yi and told it is a rare treasux^^ ^ ^8^ Vxx \^ 
ind who, as many do, coirxoa ^-t ^xxo of tilie old. 
masters did not put what 1^^^ ^ ti^o ooxiclusion 
vorks, will have all inapreasio ^'^^ oall Guish 
his visit to this priceless ookli^ ^^ "tliat; nattiro 
itures that startle even tHo ^^t.ion, S^ere he 
>us faithfulness to nature • ^^^ ^^^^xl observer by 
' the artist is visible in tl^^ ^^ii'es Upon yvhich 
[ finish of which betray tho ^j^^^^^^^^^^^st detail, the 
tvhich excite from him wh.o v>^^^ laborious appU- 
sions of admiration at piotvi ^^ l^ave been silent 
J ideals of excellence, — "^Uoxxt^^^ ^^ borne which 
night be incorrect in j'ldg^^^^ l^^rbaps, from fear- 
here is his ideal of the axTti^^*^ ^^^ honest as- 

•e cleanly finished in all i^j^ ^ ^^ and convince bun 
ict, and well defined, ca^x 1^^^^^» fresh in color. 
It of the old masters, if "tlx^jZ^ artistic ; and tbst 
Lion, thought so, too. *^ "^^v-orks can be taken 

i good deal of humbug ij^ 

idistinct old daubs, hair ^^^^ popular admiration 

in mspecting some of t,!^^ ^^^o^ by age ; and the 

trtist, in groups of ang^j^ ^^ ^Vondrous creations, 

ires to faces the size o:r ^^^^^ cherubs, puts ex- 

lose ten times that size j ^^ 

picture, to be really beaixf 

lly finished. 

be useless, in these litni*. 

of this world-renownea ^^"^^^ attempt a detailed 

iits are but an aggravati^^^^o^io^ to ^hioh two 

lerally "do" it in one lia,^^^ ^■' t*^ *,' i ^« r^r „«* 

I ^ ^1. V I. ^^ZV ^ . *^e lover ot art. 

ly to say they have been ^V^ ^it^u v, xi 

,00k and catalogues are J^^^*"^. ^ ^^ "^^ *'*^'' 

^ thuxnl^ nail, and 
^ Same work, ascer- 
-•^ust be complete]/ 


*^«<J with senteacea 

;\«>ade one almost . 
«e«, a remarkable 


droud work of art; the Massacre of the Innocents, the 
Sabine "Women, the Last Judgment, Triumph of Religion, 
Rubens and his Wife in a Garden, the Lion Hunt, &c 
But just think of one room in a galler}*^ with a hundred of 
Rubens's best works surrounding you; it is useless to at- 
tempt description. The ante-room, containing the best pic- 
tures, to my mind, was that filled with Van der WerPs 
paintings, which were marvellously clear and sharp in their 
execution, and finished with exquisite skill. Here were 
the Magdalen in a Grotto, Rest on the Flight into Egypt, 
Ecce Homo — all pictures of superb coloring never seen 
in any modem work of art ; Abraham sending forth Hagar 
and Ishmael ; portrait of the wife of the Elector John Wil- 
liam ; these two paintings were finished equal to engravings. 
In Jesus disputing with the Doctons in the Temple, the 
faces of the disputants are wondrous studies, exhibiting vari- 
ous emotions, and the figure of Christ, a beautiful bo}', has 
the look of Heaven in every lineament of his face. Many 
other perfectly finished pictures that hold one entranced with 
their wondrous beauty are in this room. 

Now we come to the sixth hall, containing the Spanish and 
French schools; and here are those pictures of Murillo's with 
which we are all so familiar from iBngravings, viz., the Beg- 
gar Boys eating Melons and Grapes, Boys playing Dice, 
Beggar Boys, &c.; Nicolas Poussin's pictures, &c. 

The seventh and eighth great halls contain other paintings 
of the same schools of art; among them Carlo Dolce,. Tinto- 
retto, Domenichino, and CoiTcggio. So also does the ninth 
apartment, formerly the private cabinet of the king, in which 
there are beautiful works from the pencil of Leonardo da 
Vinci, Andrea del Sarto, Giorgione, and Raphael. We come 
from this gallery of art literally surfeited, fatigued with long 
gazing, walking, pausing, looking, wondering, and admiring, 
and realize over again what an exhausting work is continuous 

Besides the art collections which have already been de« 
gcibcd, we visited the new Pinacothek, containing ten ballfl 


and foorteon cabinets for the exhibition of modem paintings, 
among which we saw Kaulbach's Destruction of Jerusalem, a 
magnificent picture, familiar from the print that has been made 
of it ; Wilkie's capital painting of the Reading of the Will ; 
the Deluge, by Charles Schom, a Dusseldorf artist ; Peasant's 
Wedding, an excellent picture by Maurice Muller; Fred- 
eric Bischors First ^i^ow; Battle of Custozza, by Adam; 
Two Boys buying their first Cigars, by H. Rhomberg, a 
Munich artist, &c. There were nearly three hundred pic- 
tures in this collection, which was first opened to the public 
in 1853. 

The Glyptothek, or Hall of Sculpture, is another priceless 
collection of art. The exterior is handsomely adorned with 
statues, and the interior, which consists of twelve halls, and 
each devoted to difierent branches of art, is admirably planned 
and appropriately decorated. 

In the hall known as the ^ginetan, which is devoted to 
marbles discovered in the Island of -^gina, we saw a splendid 
group of marble figures, fourteen in number, which have been 
set up exactly in the position they formerly occupied on the 
Grecian temple they adorned, being carefully put together, 
and such parts as were broken carefully restored by Thor- 
waldsen, gi^ang one some idea of the beauty of the sculpture 
of the ancient Greeks, and showing the actual figures in all 
their spirited grace and action, which has never been excelled 
by modem sculptora. 

There were Hercules and Telamon fighting the Trojans, 
imd the struggle of the Greeks and Trojans over the body of 
Patroclus, as described by Homer, the warriors with helmet, 
shield, and javelin, in the most spirited attitudes — specimens 
of the wondrous skill of the ancient sculptors, and the reality 
of those outline engravings, by Flaxman and others, of stat- 
ues and sculpture, which adom the illustrated books of Greek 
and Roman history. In the Hall of Apollo, among many 
other fine works, were a superb Bacchus, found at Athens, 
with a crown of vine leaves most exquisitely cut, a beautiful 
Ceres, and n grand and majestic statue of Minerva. 

462 A BBONZB 6IA19T. 

The Hall of Bacchus, however, contains the gem of the 
■whole collection, and, in fact, the most wonderful and life-like 
statue I ever looked upon — the celebrated Barberini Faun, 
a colossal figure of a Satyr, half sitting, half reclining, as if in 
a deep sleep after a carouse. The attitude is so perfect, the 
appearance of relaxation of the muscles and limbs so thor- 
oughly true to nature, and the very atmosphere of complete 
languor and repose so pervades the countenance and whole 
body of the figure, that the spectator almost forgets it is but 
senseless stone before him in half expectancy of the breast 
heaving to the breathings of the sleeper, which seems all that 
is lacking to make it a living reality ; and yet this wondrous 
work is from an unknown hand. The catalogues and guide- 
books claim it is from the chisel of Praxiteles ; but that is only 
surmise. On account of its excellence they doubtless think it 
ought to be ; but it was dug out of the ditch of the Castle of 
St. Angelo, where it was supposed to have been hurled from 
the walls in the ye%r 537. In this hall is also a magnificently 
executed figure of Silenus, Bacchus and Panther. 

In the Hall of Heroes are some splendid figures; Jason 
binding on his Sandal ; Nero as a gladiator, a fine head, with 
the brow and curls of a Hercules ; the Victorious Gladiator, 
Alexander the Great, &c. In the hall of modem sculpture 
were Canova's beautiftil figures of Paris and Venus ; Adonis, 
by Thorwaldsen; Love and the Muse, by Eberhardt; and 
others, giving the visitor an opportimity of compaiing ancient 
with modem art. :, 

The great bronze statue of Bavaria, just outside the city, is 
a huge figure of sixty feet in height, standing upon a pedestal 
thirty feet high. It represents a female with a sword in hei 
right hand, while the left raises on high the wreath of victory. 
At her side sits the lion of Bavaria. By the staircase inside 
we ascended to the head of the bronze giant, which we found 
would comfortably accommodate eight or nine persons ; and 
from a window in its curling locks we had a fine view of 
Munich and the surrounding country. This great statue wa* 
modelled by Schwanthaler, and cast by F. Miller at the royal 


foumlery of Munich, where so many bronze figures for this 
country have been cast ; and having for that reason a desire 
to see it, we drove thither. On sending our cards in, with a 
message that we were a party of Americans, we were im- 
mediately waited upon by the superintendent, who, with the 
greatest courtesy, showed us over the entire establishment, 
where were bronze giants in every process of manufacture, 
from the mass of liquid metal to the shapely figure under the 
artistic files of the finishers. 

Wo were shown here the Hall of the Colossi, in which were 
the plaster models of all the works that have been executed 
at the foundery. Here, among others, we saw the cast of the 
statue of Henry Clay, made for New Orleans, those of Bee- 
thoven for Boston Music Hall, and Horace Mann for Boston 
State House grounds, Colonel Benton for St. Louis, and the 
figures of Jefferson, Mason, Henry, Nelson, Lewis, and Mar- 
shal], which adorn the Washington Monument at Richmond, 
Va. ; also the model of the triumphal car, drawn by lions, 
which adorns the arch at one end of the fine street (Lud- 
wigstrasse) named after King Louis. The lions were giants 
ten feet high, and a cast of the hand of the great figure of 
Bavaria was six or seven feet long and two feet thick, sug- 
gesting that a box on the ear from such a palm would un- 
doubtedly be a " stunner." From here we naturally went to 
the studio of the great sculptor Schwanthaler, where we were 
courteously received by his son, and were interested in the 
processes of sculpture, which we saw in all its phases under 
the workmen's hands. 

Many of the streets of Munich are broad and beautiful, and 
the squares adorned with statues. A bronze obelisk in the 
Karolinenplatz, nearly a hundred feet high, formed from 
captured cannon, is erected in memory of the Bavarians who 
fell in the army of Bonaparte duiing the Russian campaign ; 
and statues of King Louis and Schiller are m the Odeon 
Platz ; while in another square is another statue, formed from 
captured cannon, of Maximilian I., surrounded by four other 
statues of distinguished Bavarian?. 


The new palace which we visited was rich in elegant pio- 
tores, beautiful frescoes, and works of art. In one series of 
rooms were -great paintings illustrating the history of Bavaria. 
Some of the rooms containing them bore the names of Hall 
of Marriage, Hall of Treachery, Hall of Revenge, Ac, the 
scenes in these apartments being those historical events in 
which these characteristics were prominent. Schwanthaler 
and Kaulbach's pencils have contributed liberally to the dec- 
oration of many of the rooms, particularly the Throne Room, 
which contains the illustrations of a German poem, painted 
by Kaulbach, and another room with thirty or forty illustra- 
tions of Goethe's works, by the same artist. 

The Hall of Frederick Barbarossa contains fine large paint- 
ings of scenes in his life, including his battle and victory in 
the third crusade. Then we have the Hall of Charlemagne, 
with great pictures of his battle scenes, and the Hall of Beau- 
ties, which contains a series of portraits of beautiful women 
of Bavaria, painted by order of the late king, without regard 
to rank or station ; so that here the peasant girl jostles the 
banker's daughter, and the duchess finds herself face to face 
with the child of a cobbler — the stamp of beauty being the 
signet that admitted each to this collection, which, in truth, 
does honor to the king's judgment. 

The great Throne Room is a magnificent apartment, one 
hundred and eight feet long and seventy-five wide. At the 
upper end of the throne, and on either side between the tall 
marble Corinthian pillars with gold capitals, stand twelve 
colossal statues in gilt bronze. The statues, which are ten 
feet high, were designed by Schwanthaler, and represent the 
different princes of the house of Bavaria, beginning w*^ 
Otho, 1253, and ending with Charies XH., 1798. The figures 
are very finely executed, and in the costumes and weapons 
show the progress of civilization. This room is, in truth, a 
royal one, and is as fit to hold a royal reception in as one 
could wish. In fact, as we look round through Munich, capi 
tal of the little kingdom of Bavaria, with its less than five 
million souls, we get the impression that it has arl^ wealtih 

••ons of „''Ve 

■;''*'»■' ton*'*'"-' 

SO """"l c 


Barcophagas of King Louis and of his queen, Therese, is in 
this church, and beneath it a crypt for the interment of the 
Benedictine monks, who are in some way or other attached 
to the church. 

In the great cathedral — a huge brick building three hun- 
dred and twenty feet in length, with its windows sixty-seven 
feet high, filled with the rich stained glass of the fifteenth 
century — we saw the monument of the Emperor Louis, 
erected in 1622, upheld upon the shoulders of four stalwart 
knights, armed cap-^irpie^ in bronze, the size of life. 

The public library of Munich is another storehouse of treas- 
ures. It is a huge three-story building, with a superb stair- 
case and magnificent architectural interior, and contains eight 
hundred and fifty thousand books, and twenty-two thousand 
manuscripts, besides coins and litemry curiosities of priceless 
value, such as block-books, printed anterior to 1500, manu- 
scripts of the New Testament, in the seventh and eighth cen- 
turies, the code of laws given by Alaric to the West Goths in 
506, Luther's Bible, containing his own and Melanchthon's 
portraits, and other rarities of like interest. This library^s 
the second largest in existence, being exceeded in extent only 
by that of Paris. 

But the reader will tire of Munich and its art treasures, if 
we do not ; so we will bid them a reluctant adieu, and take 
train for Salzburg. This was an eight hours' ride, and of no 
particular note, except that at every crossing on the railroad, 
and at intervals on the line, we saw switch-tenders, or station- 
masters, who were in the red uniform of the railroad com- 
pany, and stood upright in militaiy position, with hand raised 
to the cap in salute, as the train whizzed past them. Arrived at 
Salzburg, we went to the fine Hotel de PEurope, where, among 
other excellences of the Austrian cuisine, we had Austrian 
bread, the ^est in the world, such as, once tasted, makes the 
eater ever long for it, and establish it in his mind as the 
standard by which the quality of all others is regulated. • 

The city is on the River Salza, and in quite a picturesque 
situation, at the foot of the great Alpine heights, with a semi- 


drcle of mountains about it. Tlie plain, or valley, about the 
city is rich in beautiful gardens, orchards, groves, and country 
houses, the dark-wooded heights and slopes of the mountains 
forming the framework of the picture, and in the centre Salz- 
burg Castle perched upon its high rock, reminding one very 
much, from its appearance and position, of Edinburgh Castle. 

We have driven round the dull old to\^, seen the house 
where Mozart was bom, and his statue by Schwanthaler in 
one of the squares, and bought elegantly-painted china covers 
for the tops of beer mugs — drinkers at the bier halles hav- 
ing their special mugs, and recognizing them by the design 
upon the cover. Some of the beer flagons and tankards ex- 
posed for sale here were veiy beautiful and elaborate, and got 
up with much artistic taste. 

One of the most delightful rides we ever took was over the 
romantic road from Salzburg out to the Chateau of Hellbrunn, 
for the whole distance of nearly three miles was one continu- 
ous arch of splendid elms, shading the broad, smooth, level 
road. The view of the town, and the old castle in the centre, 
with the background of grand Alpine walls, which we had 
constantly before us, and from many different points of ob- 
servation, was very picturesque and beautiful. 

The gardens of the chateau are celebrated for containing 
the most wonderful and curious of water-works. The grounds 
are beautiftiUy laid out, and at every turn we met .new sur- 
prises. There was, of course, every variety of ordinary foun- 
tain, dolphins and nymphs spouting, Ac, and besides these 
many curious contrivances for the fluid. There were two 
beautiful pictures painted on copper, before which was appar- 
ently a sheet of glass ; but it was only a broad, thin, falling, 
transparent, aqueous curtain. A beautiful bouquet of flowers 
was enclosed in a complete hemisphere of faVWt\g water, as 
pure and unbroken as a glass globe, with gcarceVy a povcepti- 
ble motion in its swift current. Two ttirtlcs, dVrectXy oYposlto 
each other, five feet apart, seemed to ho\d ^ ^^^^ ^^^^^' ^^v 
size of a man's finger between them, m Wi^vc tO^^^^^' "^^.l 
ing the transparent cord with a cane, ^^ •^t^J''^^^^ ^ ^ 

46^ urctBNious ubobanjsm. 

stream, and the Uquid spattered in every dii^otion. The eaoe 
was withdrawn, the stream immediately leonited, and tbe 
turtles again held then: apparently motionless crystal coid as 
before. We came to automaton old men grinding their 
scythes at a grindstone, nullers at work at their mill, all nm- 
ning by water power; entered a wondrous grotto^ where 
Neptune in his car drawn by sea-horses swam around, the 
horses and dolphins spouting liquid streams from their moutha, 
and birds piping their Hquid notes from the wall, all moved by 
water power. 

In another beautiful grotto a whirling fountain lifted a 
handsome golden crown eight feet into the air, and kept it 
suspended amid a shower of sparkling drops. Takine a posi- 
tion at the rear of a dark cavern, and looking out towards the 
little arched entrance, the water was let on in fine mist, and 
the arched doorway was as rich as the gates of Paradise in 
wreathed rainbows. Two huge stags guarded another cav- 
ern, streams issuing from their mouths and every point of 
their huge antlers. Hunters were on galloping steeds, and 
blew torrents ^m thek horns, or were enveloped in the 
floods that spouted from their spear-heads. Luxurious seats 
invited the tired pedestrian to repose, when, on seating him- 
self, he was ringed in with a circle of miniature waternspouts, 
rendering dry egress apparently impossible. Finally we came 
to a place where two huge doors were thrown open, display- 
ing a space about twelve feet high and eight or ten wide, in 
which was the complete representation in miniature of the 
square in a city. 

There were cathedral, palace, dwelling-house, and artisans* 
shops, all faithfuUy represented ; and in the streets, the shops 
and the houses which were open to view, were over one 
hundred automaton figures of men, women, and children, afl 
moved by water power, and giving life to the scene before 
you. There were masons h<M8ting stone and building a house, 
coopers and tinkers clattering away in their shops, butchei* 
killing and cuttmg up, cobblers pegging away m their Httle 
Btnlls, wood-sawyei-s, blacksmiths beating with a regular dink- 




dank-dink upon their anvils, artisans in their shops; also all 
the usual street scenes of a dty. Here was a man with a 
dancing bear, surrounded by a curious crowd ; there a shrew- 
ish old woman shaking her head, gesticulating, and scolding 
at her tipsy husband ; children playing in' the street ; ladies, 
looking from windows of houses, returned the courtly salutes 
of gallants who passed by in the streets with gracefiil bow or 
^ wave of the hand ; loaded teams passed by ; people went in 
and out of houses ; Turks, priests, Jews, and courtiers passed 
along in the most natural manner, and finally came a whole 
regiment of soldiers, marching across the square ; at last, the 
notes of the organ were heard in the cathedral, and into its 
broad portal filed priests and people, and the scene closed. 
The size of these automatons was from six to eight inches ; 
they were very well executed ; and the whole scene, with the 
cathedral, square, streets, and throng of moving figures, seemed 
a sort of realization of Gulliver's experiences in Lilliput. This 
place is the property of the king, and no fee is charged for 
viewing it and its many wonders ; nevertheless, the custodian, 
who had so kindly and faithfully exhibited them to our party, 
was extremely gratified at the magnificent fee of thuty cents, 
and took leave of us with a profusion of bows and polite 

Our visit to the old castle was also an interesting one. 
From its battlements we looked directly down upon the town, 
and, afar of^ on a beautiful landscape of fields, winding river, 
and distant mountain. Within the walls we saw the grand 
apartments of the old bishops, and the remains of the torture 
chamber, fragments of the rack, and other hellish inventions 
of cruel ingenuity which they used to apply to their victims. 

Following the advice of a fnend, we telegraphed on in 
advance to the Hotel Archduke Charles, at Vienna, that we 
were coming, and to secure rooms. An eight hours' ride by 
rail brought us to the capital of the Austiian dominions, and 
I had scarce stepped from the railway carriage ere a well- 
dressed, gentlemanly-looking individual, in dress coat, dark 
pants and vest, gloves, spotless shirt-front, and immaculate 


neck*tie, called me by name, and in perfectly correct English 
inquired if the laggage of the party was upon the train, 
and was to be taken to the hotel. I looked at him inquiringly, 
and assented. 

"I am attached to the hotel, sir, and have received your 
despatch (exhibiting it). If you will please to step into this 
carriage we have in waiting for you, after pointing opt your 
trunks, I will follow you with them." 

We were amazed, and began to wonder whether or not the 
fellow might not be a clever English impostor, who had 
obtained our telegraphic despatch with a view of getting our 
^^gg^g^ into his hands, and running away with it. Our 
doubts were, however, soon settled by a young Prussian lady 
of the party, who conversed with him in his native tongue, 
and found that he was a sort of chief clerk, or managino^ man, 
for the proprietors of the hotel, and was equally at home in 
the German, French, or English languages. We therefore 
committed our impedimenta to his charge, were escorted by 
him to the carnage, when, as he helped us in, tumbled and 
travel-stained as we were, and passed in the traveUing- 
pouches and shawls, and stood in his spotless linen and 
polished boots, raising his French hat, as if he had just 
stepped from a ball-room or the opera, — I could not help 
feeling a little awkward at presuming to permit so gentle- 
manly-appearing a personage to perform a menial act; but 
our reflections were cut short by his rapid directions to the 
driver in his own tongue. The coach-door was clapped to^ 
and we were soon whirling through the brilliantly-liglited 
streets on our way to the hotel. 

Vienna appears to be a city that is .having immense ad- 
ditions made to it ; in fact, to have recently taken a fresh 
start in new and spacious squares, wide streets, and new 
buildings. The different portions of it are known as the old 
and new cities. The new city streets are open, wide, and 
airy, with broad and handsome sidewalks ; the streets of the 
old are narrow and crooked, with no sidewalk or curbstone. 
Our hotel — the Archduke Charles — is situated on a street 

▼ncNKA, ' 47 J 

scarce!/ ivide enough for two vehicles to pass, and the noise 
(for it is always crowded) that comes up between the tall 
buildings is almost unbearable in warm weather, when open 
casements are a necessity. Talk of the crooked streets of 
Boston ! Why, some of the corkscrew passages of the old 
city of Vienna will wind up an expert Bostonian into a most 
inexplicable tangle. 

The large, new streets, however, will, in time, rival the 
Boulevards in beauty and attractiveness. Great blocks of 
buildings are built on the Parisian model, elegant restaurants 
and stores, with plate glass windows, rich displays of goods, 
and a profusion of gas-jets, give quite a Paris air to the scene ; 
in fact, the improvements in the way of new buildings and ne^ 
streets, not only here but in Munich and other cities, seem to 
be afler the Paris, or Haussman model. The tourist can 
hardly help thinking that Louis Napoleon made his influence 
to be felt in more ways than one, and has taught the mon- 
archs of some of these sleepy old empires a good lesson in 
widening, enlarging, and beautifying their capitals, making 
them attractive to visit and pleasant to live in, and to realize 
that it is money in their purses, or those of their subjects, 
— which is much the same, — to render their cities inviting to 
the hosts of travellers who traverse the continent, and to in- 
duce them to remain and spend money, or come again and 
spend more. 

To bona fide tourists there are now very few restrictions. 
Custom-house examinations are a mere form ; passports, 
except in the intolerant Roman States, are never called for, 
and admissions to galleries, palaces, or collections, which 
require tickets from government officials, are granted to 
foreigners without restraint. One of our first sight-seeing 
excureions took us to the Imperial Library — a magnificent 
collection of books and manuscripts, commenced in the 
thirteenth century, and which now contains nearly three hun- 
dred thousand books, and over sixteen thousand manuscripts, 
including many rare literary curiosities, among which we saw 
Charlemagne's psalm book; a roll of hieroglyphic* on skin. 


sent by Cortes from Mexico to the King of Spain ; Tastso^a 
own manuscript of Jerusalem Delivered ; the Latin Bible of 
1462, on parchment; elegant illuminated manuscripts and 
parchment volumes, whose exquisite penmanship and still 
brilliant colors make it hard to believe that the hands that 
laboriously fashioned them, in shady cloister and convent 
cell, have crumbled into undistinguLshable dust hundreds of 
years ago. 

One of the most magnificent collections of royal jewelry we 
have ever looked upon we saw at the Imperial Treasury, or 
Jewel House. Here were necklaces of diamonds as big as 
filberts, and of a brilliancy that others pale before ; a bow-knot 
as large as a half sheet of commercial note-paper, thdt blazed 
like fire with clear, pure diamonds ; great crowns ; conquer- 
ors' wreaths in emeralds and diamonds; royal orders and 
decorations ; magnificent chains and collars belonging to the 
dresses of various orders worn by the emperor. But it was 
not only the sparkling collection of gems of purest ray serene 
that attracted our attention — the curious historic relics that 
are preserved here are of great value and interest. Think of 
standing and- looking upon the coronation robe, crown, and 
sceptre of the stout old Charlemagne himself; the great dia- 
mond worn by Charles the Bold ; the robes and crown worn by 
Napoleon at his coronation at Milan ; an elegant crucifix, with 
the wondrous carving and chasing of that renowned artificer, 
Benvenuto Cellini ; a collection of curious watches of olden 
times, the " Nuremburg eggs '* that we have so often read of. 
Besides the huge falchion of Charlemagne, we were shown 
the sword of Maximilian I., that of Francis I. of France, the 
scimeter that was once wielded by Tamerlane, and the cele- 
brated iron crown of Lombardy. 

I cannot begin to enumerate the stories of relics connected 
with the history of Austria ; the wealth of cut and uncut 
jewels which we were hurried through by the thick-headed, 
stupid guide, who recited a description he had learned by 
rote in the most monotonous manner ; who was utterly una- 
ble to answer the simplest quesion, and only went from one 


object to another that was in his programme of performance, 
commencing with his everlastmg "^ Dies is der,"" and gomg on 
with a monotonous enumeration of facts, running his words 
and sentences together, like a state official repeating a for- 
mula. I ought not to omit mentioning that they .have several 
sacred i*elics here, some of which cannot fail to excite a smile, 
and others such as tourists always expect to find in every 
collection. Among the iirst is what is said to be part of the 
table-cloth used at the Last Supper I The visitor is not ex- 
pected to inquire if table-cloths were used in those days, or he 
might be answered, " Of course they were ; else how came this 
piece here ? ^ The piece of the true cross is here, of course, 
for no well-regulated collection of relics or cathedral is com- 
plete without it; while the tooth of St. John the Baptist and 
' leg bone of St. Anne may cause some unbelieving Thomases 
to wonder how long these mortuary relics can be kept pre- 
served from the crumbling touch of time. 

I had no idea what an intensely curious exhibition a cab- 
inet of minerals could be, till I stood within the great build- 
ing containing the collection here, which is in a series of 
apartments in all as long as Quincy Market, in Boston, and 
most admirably arranged and classified. It seemed as if the 
whole world had beeii ransacked for specimens in every nook 
and comer, from the fi'ozen re^ons of the poles to the coral 
caves of the tropics ; from the surface to the centre ; and that 
geology might be studied here by illustration, and metallurgy 
and mineralogy thoroughly learned from specimens, so nu- 
merous are they, and so perfectly are the different varieties 
and branches arranged. 

Here are marbles from every part of the world, even 
Greenland ; copper from the slave-worked mines of Siberia, 
and the prolific pits of the Lake Superior country, in frag- 
ments, dust, ingots, and masses; coal bearing the familiar 
names of our American mines, those of the great English 
pits, and specimens from China, Japan, Bohemia, and New 
Zealand ; gold in all its curious shapes, as found in rock that 
showed not its glitter, and in the smooth nuggets fix)m Call* 


fomia and Australia ; the less precious, but not less usciiiil 
iron, from every part of the globe; diamonds from Bnudl; 
agates; malachite from the XJral Mountains; crystals from 
the Alps ; amethysts, rubies, and uncut gems, plucked from 
streams or rocky prisons ; silver ore from the mines of To- 
tosi; solid lead from Great Britain, Spain, and America; 
tin, cinnabar, platina — till it seemed that every known metal, 
ore, rock, mineral, or gem, from every quarter of the world, 
had its representative specimen in this priceless colkction. 

Among the remarkable curiosities of the museum were the 
largest opal in the world, — as large as a man's fist, and 
weighing seventeen ounces, — too big for the breastpin of 
the most ambitious American expressman or negi'o minstrel ; 
a great rock crystal, as big as a man's leg ; a great bed or 
mass of crystals, four and a half feet in diameter ; elegant 
specimens of uncut gems and diamond crystals ; a large col- 
lection of aerolites, or meteoric stones, which have fallen in 
various parts of the world. Among the most curious of 
these is one mass looking like melted rock, weighing over five 
hundred pounds. Then there are curious fossil remains, bird 
tracks, and ferns, in stone, and various other interesting illus- 
trations of geology. A very costly wonder is a beautiful 
bouquet of flowers, made entirely of precious stones, for the 
Empress Maria Theresa, — the colors of leaves, buds, and 
petals all being preserved by different-colored gems, — a 
sparkling but scentless nosegay. This superb collection w 
one of the wonders of Vienna, and must afford an admirable 
opportunity to students and others engaged in the study of 
mineralogy, Ac, numbers of whom we saw in different de- 
partments, as we passed through, making notes and exam 

A museum where one having any taste for antiquities may 
positively luxuriate, is the Ambras Museum of ancient arms 
and armor, a real, authenticated historical collection, — annoi 
that had actually been worn and fought in by men whoso 
names figure in history hundreds of years ago. How the 
antiquary will thank the old Archduke Ferdinand, who ma^* 


this collection in 1560, expressly for the purpose of interesting 
future ages, and left his own autographic manuscripts (still 
preserved), authenticating them beyond a doubt. 

Three large rooms of six in the museum are devoted to 
the collection of arms and armor. Here were the helmet of 
Francis I., of France, that may have been worn in his battle 
with his warlike opponent, the German emperor, Charles V., 
or at his meeting with Henry VIH. on the Field of the Cloth 
of Gold; the complete armor, for man and horse, of the 
Emperor Maximilian; the armor of Charles V.; that of 
Philip n., — armor that he may have ridden in, side by side 
with his English wife. Bloody Mary ; the dinted armor of 
that fierce warrior, Don John of Austria, that may have 
shielded its owner in many a deadly encounter ; a magnifi- 
cent steel suit, fluted with gold, belonging to the Archbishop 
of Salzburg ; the handsomely-wrought steel armor of Mau- 
rice, Elector of Saxony ; a whole room full of armor suits 
and weapons used at tournaments during the middle ages ; 
the elegant suit of Alexander Famese, of Parma, made in 
1592, of great beauty of workmanship, and which would put 
our artificers of the present day to their best skill to rival. 
Here are the battle-axe of Montezuma, emperor of Mexico ; 
the horse-tail standards captured from the Turks, and elegant 
swords and weapons of Italian warriors, rich in ornament 
and chasing. Of these interesting memorials of ancient 
chivalry, there are nearly one hundred and fifty suits of 
armor, weapons, ifec. — historical mementos of the manners 
of the middle ages. 

476 ftlTPXBB KAuaoLExni^ 


On our first Sunday in Vienna we attended service at the 
Church of St. Augustine, the chief features of the senrioe 
being the splendid robes of the priests, and the magnificent 
music — the instrumental portion, in ' addition to the organ, 
being the full orchestra from the opera-house, led by its 
leader, baton in hand, and giving some of the compositions 
of the great composers in a style that made the lofty arches 
of the old church to seem filled with heavenly melody. In 
this church is Canova's superb monument to the Arch- 
duchess Christiana, a marble pyramid thirty feet high, upon 
a broad marble pedestal, with two wide steps. In the centre 
of this pyramid, designed to represent the tomb, is a door, 
and grouped upon the steps, on their way towards it, are sev- 
eral life-sized allegorical figures, most exquisitely wrought. 
A female figure, in flowing drapery, bearing a flower-wreathed 
urn, with a child walking on either side of her, followed by 
another figure. Benevolence, supporting by the arm Old Age, 
a bent, decrepit, tottering old man leaning upon a stafi^ are 
the figures on one side ; while upon the other reposes a lion, 
with an angel seated by his side, and half reclining upon his 
rugged mane. The white, flo'wdng drapery of these figures 
is so beautifully wrought as to fairly rival reality, and the 
figure of Old Age, with tottering limbs, weary face, and 
relaxed muscles, a perfect mastei-piece of art. The angel, 
reclining upon the lion, is a figure of exquisite beauty, while 
the grouping of the whole, and the natural positions of the 
figures, render the composition both apt and beautiful. 

At the Capuchin Church we went down into the vault of 
the imperial family, under the guidance of a sandalled friar, 
torch in hand. Here rest the mortal remains of royalty, in 
seventy great metallic coffins or sarcophagi, — the oldest that 


of Ferdinand, 1610, and the most splendid being that of 
Joseph I^ which has over two thousand pounds of silver 
about it, wrought into armorial bearings, crowns, death's 
heads, wi*eaths of flowers, and other designs. The rest are 
chiefly wrought from zinc into the forms of mortuary caskets, 
with appropriate designs. 

While the group of visitors were tediously following the 
monotonous description of the friar, I unconsciously seated 
myself upon the end of one of these ornamented chests of 
human ashes, from which, when discovered, I was requested 
to rise by an indignant wave of the hand, and a look upon 
the friar's face that savored strongly of indignation, as he ap- 
proached the spot with the party, and commenced his descrip- 
tion. Then it was I discovered that I had been making my 
seat of the funeral casket of the Duke of Reichstadt, son of 
the great Napoleon ; and near by we saw that of the Emperor 
Francis, his grandfather. 

From this gloomy chamber of dead royalty, we were glad 
once more to emerge to the busy street and to close the day's 
sight-seeing by a visit to a musical festival given in an im- 
mense garden just outside the city, called, I think, the New 
World Garden. The occasion being the Virgin's birthday, 
there was an extra attraction ; first there was the splendid 
Strauss band, about seventy pieces, led by Strauss himself; 
then two large military bands, and these played alternately, 
and such music ! The Strauss waltzes and dance music were 
given with a " voluptuous swell," precision, and beauty that 
were enchanting to listen to. They were liquid billows of 
harmony, and as inspiriting to the feet of the dancers as a 
draught of nitrous oxide to the imagination. The volup- 
tuous waltz ceased, the military ban<l would then burst foith 
with gi*and march or quickstep that would make one's very 
pulses thrill, and when tMs closed, the other band gave an 
overture or grand musical composition, which concluded, the 
lively dance music of Strauss again burst forth with its exhil- 
arating strains. 

There were three or four thousand persons present stroll- 


ing througli the pleasant walks and shady alleys, or sitting 
at the tables near the music pavilions eating ices, drinking 
light wines or beer, chatting, and listening to the mnsic. The 
price of admission to the regular concerts of the Strauss band 
here is about eighteen cents! But to this entertainment, 
which was an extra occasion, or a sort of a fete day, the en- 
ormous fee of nearly thirty cents was demanded! The excel- 
lence of the music as well as the cheapness of the entertain- 
ment, was marvellous to us Americans. 

It is a pleasant excursion to the Schonbrunn, or summer 
palace, and the gardens connected with it, about three miles 
from Vienna. These gardens on fine Sunday afternoons are 
thronged with people from the city, strolling through their 
shady alleys and beautiful walks. The shrubbery and land- 
scape gardening here are great curiosities; long, straight 
avenues are laid out, with the trees on each side trimmed 
like hedges to the height of thirty or forty feet, presenting a 
perapective of an avenue as smooth and unbroken as if sliced 
out of a solid mass of green, with a keen blade ; then the 
masses of foliage are trimmed into niches for marble statues, 
graceful curves, and columns, and curious walks. The flower- 
gardens of the palace were beautiful, and the hot-houses rich 
in great palms and other tropical wonders ; there were quite 
a number, some dozen or more, of these conservatories, each 
devoted to different varieties of plants, a description of which 
would be wearisome. As some of the royal family were at 
the palace we could not visit the interior, but passing through 
the gardens, we ascended to the Oloriette^ a sort of open tem- 
ple with a colonnade of pillars, situated upon rising ground, 
and commanding a fine view of Vienna and the surroimding 
country, including the battle-fields of Aspem and Wagram. 

The Imperial Picture Gallery of Vienna is a collection of 
paintings worth a journey over the ocean to see — rich in the 
mastci7)icces of the old masters, and containing in all about 
two thousand pictures, which are arranged in different apart- 
ments according to the school of art to which they belong. 
Here, again, we were bewildered with a wealth of beauty: 


here one begins to realize what wonders the painter's brush 
is capable of; what laborious finishers the old masters were ; 
how very little advance, if any at all, has been made in the 
art ; what skill must have been used in the manufacture and 
laying on of colors which, after the lapse of two or three hun- 
dred years, are as fresh, bright and effective as if but yester- 
day applied to the canvas. 

It would be like enumeration by catalogue to give the 
list of pictures that we have pencilled notes of admi^;ation 
against ; but only think of seeing elegant pictures from the 
pencils of Paul Veronese, Titian, Raphael, Guido, Correggio, 
Murillo, Rembrandt, Cuj-p, Poussin, Vandyke, Rubens, Teni- 
ers, Albert DUrer, Van Eyck, Andrea del Sarto, Gerard Dow, 
and Schneydera! Why, after going through this gallery, 
having seen that at Munich, it seemed as if we had seen the 
originals of half of all the engravings and copies of gi*cat 
works that we have ever looked upon ; and as in other gal- 
leries, we found the longest time we could possibly give to 
it allowed us only a glance, comparatively speaking, at its 

There was Titian's Ecce Homo, a masterpiece of artistic 
skill that one wanted hours to study; the Entombment, 
and his beautiful figure of Danae ; Correggio's elegant picture 
of Christ and the Wom^n of Samaria ; Guide's Holy Family 
— a room entirely filled with the works of that industrious 
artist, Rubens, among which was his Assumption of the Vir- 
gin, Loyola casting out Evil Spirits, and Xavier healing the 
Sick. Teniers also had a room, among which his Peasants' 
Mamage,and Village Fete, were conspicuous ; Albert Durer's 
Martyi'dom of Ten Thousand Christians — a wonderful work, 
in which every form of torture and death seemed to have 
been represented ; a student for the torture chamber of the 
Holy Inquisition might have obtained new ideas by studying 
it; Durei-'s magnificent picture of the Holy Trinity, sur- 
rounded by a crowd of saints, chenibs, and angels — a repre- 
sentation in which perfect finish in all the details of features 
and heavenly beauty was marvellously executed ; Paul Ver- 


onese's Holy Family, and two splelidid battle-pieces by Sat 
vator Rosa. 

In the modem gallery there were also many wonderfully 
beautiful works of art — a fearfully real picture of the Mas- 
sacre of the Innocents, by Charles Arrienti; a wonderfully 
funny one of Mischie^Makers in an Artist's Studio, by Jo- 
seph Danhauser — a picture that will make one laugh aloud ; 
a fine picture of the Adieu of a soldier of the Austrian 
Landvuehr to his wife and children — figures all of life-eize, 
painted by Pierre Krafit ; a sortie of a garrison against Turk- 
ish assailants — a great painting crowded with figures in the 
most spirited action, and all beautifully finished by the same 
artist ; Shnorr's Mephistophiles appearing to Faust — an ele- 
gant and effective composition ; Grand Canal of Venice, by 
Schoefil -^ a lovely scene. And so it continued — great battle- 
pieces with life-like warriors, with weapons and mail strik- 
ingly like reality; lovely landscapes that filled one with 
admiration to gaze upon; religious subjects, on which the 
loftiest art and the sublimest conceptions were exhausted; 
wonderful trickery of art in some compositions ; quiet beauty 
in others, that drew the beholder, again and again, back to 
gaze upon them, till, with aching limbs and fatigued vertebrn, 
we closed our first visit to this glorious collection, with the 
thought of how discouraging is the effort to attempt, in a day 
or two, that over which weeks, and even months, might be 
used with pleasure and intellectual profit. 

Tourists, who are always buying something in every Euro- 
pean capital they visit, find the beautiful fancy goods shops 
and Vienna goods potent attractions. It is in- this city that 
all the beautiful leather-work, known as Russia leather, is 
manufactui*ed, its deep-red stain and peculiar perfume as 
fascinating as the many-colored hues and glossy surface of 
fresh kid gloves, or the fi^grance of the leaves of a new 
volume, to the purchaser. Travelling satchels of this material, 
which at home are an extravagant luxury, are here obtainable 
at less than half the American price. Then the leather is 
wrought in a hundred fanciful ways: it appears in trunks; 


portfolios soft, elegant, and portable; pocket-books smooth 
and elastic ; work-boxes, hat-boxes, covered smelling-bottles^ 
easks, and canes; in watch-chains or portable inkstands, whip- 
stocks, boots and shoes, elegantly mounted horse harnesses ; 
and, in fact, in abont every way it can be used to court the 
eye and be of service. 

The meerschaum pipe stores of Vienna must make a 
smoker half crazy with delight ; and indeed^ to those who do 
not use the weed, their windows are among the most attrac- 
tive upon the great streets, from the ingenuity and skill dis- 
played in the innumerable forms into which pipe bowls are 
carved* The most artistic skill and elaborate workmanship, 
appear to have been expended upon these pipes, and the 
great pipe stores vie with- each other in displaying in their 
windows specimens of delicate carvings and curious designs, 
beautiful amber mouth-pieces, tobacco-boxes, pouches, and 
the smoker's paraphernalia. An American rarely leaves 
Vienna without some of its meerschaums in his baggage. 
Gentlemen's clothing, excellently made to order, ean be 
bought here at astonishingly low prices, and the ladi^ find 
fans, fancy goods, and laces to be not so dear as in Paris. 

The prices at the leading hotels are rather high, but the 
cuisine is unexceptionable, and Vienna bread the best in the 
worfd. Once eaten, the traveller will establish it as his stan- 
dard of excellence. It is snowy whit^, without flake, fine- 
grained, has a light, brown, crisp crust, no particle of flavor 
of yeast, gas, or acidity, but a fragrance of purity and sweet- 
ness, and the dyspeptic may devour the delicibus, roi:nd 
breakfast rolls, almost in any quantity, with impimity. Most 
Americans are astonished to find what a luxurious repast can 
be made from mere bread and butter in Vienna. 

Vienna appears more like London and Paris than other 
European capitals. Its brilliant ca^s, shops, and the elegant 
new Boulevards, recently completed, give it quite the air of 
Paris ; and so also do the numerous amusements, out-ofdoor 
concerts, and musical entertainments, together with the gem^ 
eral pleasure -seeking character of the people. Among the 


482 nf A QUANDABT. 

fine promenades just out of the city is one known sis the 
Prater, near the River Danube, a favorite resort of fashion 
and aristocracy, where we saw a brilliant display of elegant 
carriages and gayly-dressed occupants; equestrians, out to 
display their elegant horses, and their own hoi-semanship; 
Austrian officers, in their rich uniforms, and pedestrians, out 
for an afternoon lounge and enjoyment of the gay scene. 

We stopped en roiUe to Venice, by rail, at Adelsbeig^ 
:.bout fifty miles from Trieste, and which we were told by 
certain Americans to be sure and visit, as its grotto, the Cave 
of Adelsberg, was one of the wonders of Europe ; and, tor 
ouce, we found the asseition to be correct, for, after a visit to 
it, we classed in our mind as among the wonders we had 
seen, thus: the Alps, Milan Cathedral, and the Grotto of 

It is an odd experience to arrive in a foreign country at a 
railroad station at nine o'clock at night, and yourself and 
companion the only persons who leave the train, finding, on 
looking about you, after it has whizzed away into the dark- 
ness, that the five or six officials in attendance cannot under- 
stand a word of English, and that their language is equally 
nnintelligible to you. However, travel sharpens one's wits, 
and by sign language, and the pronouncing of the name of 
the hotel mentioned in our guide-book, " Ungarisk Krane^ 
we managed to ma^e the somewhat stolid officials under- 
stand that we wished to go to that place. But now a new 
difficulty seemed to arise, and an animated palaver took 
place, with the accompaniment of various shnigs, gesticula- 
tions, and contortions of visage, which really seemed to por- 
tend something serious, but which turned out to bo that^ as 
we had anived on a train that very seldom set down any 
passengers there, there was no means of conveyance to the 
hotel, and we must walk. 

A guide, with a hand wagon bearing our luggage, accord- 
ingly started, and we trudged after him in the darkness. No, 
not darkness ; for during our detention the moon had risen, 
and our journey to the old-fiisliioned, quaint-looking village. 



and through the courtyard of the Hungarian Crown Hotel, 
was less disagreeable than it might have been. Arrived at 
the hotel, a new dilBculty arose. The landlord spoke only 
Italian and a patois of German, which was Dutch to us, and 
was vexed at being disturbed from a grand exhibition, which 
was in progress in his dining-room, of feats of jugglery, and 
elocutionary exercises by two itinerant performers. 

Gratifying was it to have a young Italian girl at this Adds- 
berg hostehy come out from the crowd, — not one of whom 
seemed to speak English or French, — speak perfect English 
to us, and translate our wants to the landlord. And gratify- 
ing was it to our national pride to see what alacrity the an- 
nouncement that we were Americans put into his step, and 
the speed of his preparations ; for in less than half an hour 
we had been provided with an excellent apartment, and were 
sitting at a little supper table at one end of the salle a man- 
ger^ enjoying tea, chops, and other creature comforts. At 
the same time, a magician was performing in the room to an 
audience of fifty or sixty, whose costume, conversation, and 
manners were to us the most interesting part of it. We also 
found ourselves to be somewhat of a curiosity to the audi- 
tors, while the young Italian who could converse with us in 
our own tongue, having formerly been lady's maid in an Eng- 
lish family, found herself quite distinguished, on account of 
her ac<^mplishment, among her friends, who crowded around 
her, and, as we afterwards learned, plied her with innumera- 
ble questions about the Americans and their distant country. 

Being the only foreigners in the place desirous of visiting 
the cave the next morning, we were obliged to pay the same 
expense that would have been required of a party of a dozen. 
The cave is the property of the government, and there is a 
regular tariff of charges, according to the grade of illumina- 
tion, — that is, the number of candles used in displaying the 
halls and gi'ottos; for a goodly quantity are required to 
even partially display its wonders. The grand illumination, 
" utterly regardless," we declared against ; so also did we the 
cheap third and fourth rate, but decided upon the second. 


involving an expense of about twelve dollais and a hali^ aiid 
six guides. 

Our former experiences in caves, mines, ruins, and grottos 
have always necessitated a change of costume^ a donning' of 
rubber coats, overalls, old bats, or overshoes. ConseqncntJj 
we were a little incredulous at the assertion that, with the 
exception of tolerably stout shoes, nothing more t^an an 
ordinary costume was necessary. We entered this wonderful 
4^vern directly from the road, walking into it as into an 
arched excavation in a hill-side. Four of our six guides had 
preceded us, and kept about a quarter of an hour in advance, 
with their satchels of candles and torches, to illuminate the 
great halls and chambers on our approach ; while the other 
two, one of whom, to our joy, spoke French, accompanied bs 
with torches, to guide us, and point out the curiosities and 
wonders of the place. The cavern is miles in extent. And 
let not the reader ima^ne any damp, dirty hole in the earthy 
with muddy soil and dripping rpof, or a squeezing through 
of narrow, dangerous passages, clambering over obstacles, or 
anything of the kind ; for, with the exception of the damp 
sand of a shallow stream, for twenty yards near the very 
entrance, the walking was as dry and free from absolute di»- 
comfgrts as a city street. 

Three hours' walk through the bowels of the earth re- 
vealed to us that there were as wondrous beauties below as 
above the earth ; for we passed through great natural Gothic 
passages, almost as natural as if shaped by the builder^s 
hands, forests and clusters of columns glittering with fantastic 
omament. We emerged into a great dome-like apartment^ 
big enough to set Boston State House down in its centre, and 
leave room to spare. This our guides had illumined with the 
candles placed in every direction, and the effect upon the 
glittering stalactites and stalagmites, frosted as they were 
with flashing crystals, was as if we stood in a vast hall of 
diamonds, sparkling around in every direction. 

On we went, amid pillars, arches, and spires. Here was a 
great domCi one hundred and sixty*five feet high, t^e goidet 

0in>BBaBonND wokpebs. 485 

told us, spangled, as far up as we could see, with a perfect 
blaze of sparkling particles, reflecting back the light of the 
numerous candles, like a roof crusted with gems. Anothei 
great hall was shaped like a huge theatre. Right through 
the centre, where should be the parquet, . rushed a swift 
sUent, black river — the Poick; a natural stone bridge formed 
the orchestra; beyond it, a great platform of rock, the stage; 
• two semicircular ledges of rock opposite were the two rows 
of dress circle and boxes ; only this great theatre was double, 
yes, treble the size of a real one. 

Our guides had placed a dodble row of lights over the 
orchestral bridge, whicb were reflected on the black stream 
beneath. Another row represented the stage lights. Two 
more rows ran round stone balconies where we stood, while 
the illusion is heightened by an extemporized chandelier, 
made from hogshead hoops, filled with rows of candles, and 
swung out by means 'of a wooden crane into the centre. 

The effect was magnificent and indescribable. 

Another great hall was designated "Mount Calvary," and 
was a succession of gradual ascents, past stalactite columns 
by a winding pathway, to a summit where were three forms^ 
tions of the rock, which, by an effort of the imagination, 
might represent the group at our Saviour's crucifixion. Thi? 
magnificent hall, like the others, blazed with sparkling 
particles, was rich in white, marble-like columns, clustered 
pillai^s, wondrous arches, and semi-transparent sheets of 
cream-colored rock. Another hall, when lighted, seemed a 
realization of those "fairy grottos," "abode of elves," or 
" home of the sea-nymphs," which we see represented upon 
the stage of the theatre; for it was a wilderness of fret-work, 
pretty arches, open, lace-work sort of rock screens, slender 
spires, alabaster-ltke pillars, and all glittering and flashing 
with the alum-like, crystal-sparkling particles of the formar 
tion which is found in these caverns. 

Passing from hall to hall, we encounter numerous curious 
and astonishingly natural formations. There were statues, 
petrified .watei falls, a torrent in full career turned into ala- 


baster; towers, one the leaning tower of Pisa, fifteen fed 
high, a very good representation ; columns as transparent as 
an alabaster vase ; ruined castles, thirty feet high, with battle- 
ments and turrets.; a splendid pulpit, grand throne, a butch- 
er's shop with joints hanging from its beams ; and a prison 
with its grated window, all in white stone. Here we came 
to great white curtains of rock, a dozen yards high and half 
that width, no thicker than the hand, which when struck with 
a wooden mallet bounded like a cathedral bell ; then we came 
to a place like the sea-beach, where it seemed as if the slo^r 
in-coming waves, as they washed upon the sands, had felt 
the stony touch that had transformed all — for there were the 
little rippling waves in solid alabaster, caught in their retreat, 
with all the little eddies and foam-whirls as they were sli^ng 
back to the surf ibhat sent them in, and held solid and immova- 
ble. Upon one huge crag of rock sat quite a shapely eagle, 
and from another drooped a huge flag in snowy folds, and 
beneath it, rising as if to grasp it, reached up a Titanic hand; 
then came a tall palm tree, next a broom of stone big enough 
for a giant; a lion's head looking over a jutting crag, and yew 
trees by the path side, besides many other objects, some most 
wonderfully natural in appearance, and others requiiing the 
exercise of a lively imagination to see the representation. 

The last grand apartment in this wonderful cave was the 
state ball-room, a beautiful circular-foiined apartment, with 
its centre clear and unobstructed, affording ample space for 
dancers, who use it once a year, on Whit-Sunday, when a 
gi-and ball, with full orchestra, is given there. This apart- 
ment contains a natural formation for the orchestra, an ele- 
gant rocky seat as a throne, and tiers of seats, rows of spar- 
khng columns about its sides, and elegant rocky fi^t-work far 
above. The effect of the illumination here, as in cdier apart- 
ments, was dazzHngly beautiful. 

After our three hours' walk, which was through a succe&' 
sion of natural wondera, we emerged again into daylight from 
this Aladdin cavern. The whole of the journey was, with the 
exception of a dozen yards, over walks as dry as a floor, and 

VBNICK. -487 

through passages twenty feet and more wide, and fi-om twenty 
to two hundred and more feet in height. This subterranean 
wonder, we w^ere informed, and we also saw by the traveller's 
register, but comparatively few Americans see; but it is a 
sight that none should miss. It may be " done " by stopping 
over half a day on the railroad between Vienna and Venice, 
or can be reached by riding out fi'om Trieste by rail, a dis- 
tance of fifty miles. 


We found ourselves early in the morning, after an all-night 
ride, running over a flat, marshy, sea-shore-looking country, 
approaching Venice. Venice 1 There was sometliing magi- 
cal in the sound of that name, as conjuring up memories of 
school-boy dreams and youthful imagination, equal in eflect to 
the sonorous boom of the word London, that fills the fancy 
like the tone of a great cathedral bell, when we felt we were 
actually to set foot in that great city, which historian, poet, 
and novelist had made us himger to see for «o many yeara. 

Venice, the scene of so much of Byron's poetry ; Venice, 
that Rogers sang of; Venice, with its Doges, its Council of 
Ten, its terrible dungeons ; Venice, the Merchant of Venice 
— we should see the very bridge that old Shylock met An- 
tonio upon ; Venice, with its great state barges and the Doge 
maiTying the Adriatic ; Venice, with its canals, having those 
water parties in gondolas that we see in engravings represent- 
ing ladies and gentlemen in silk and velvet attire, with fruit, 
wine, and musical instruments before them, and broad, em- 
broidered table clothing dragging from the boatside into the 

The Venice of Shakespeare and Byron, and Rogers and 

Cooper, — 

"Beautiful Venice, the Bride of the Sea." 


We rolled in on our train over the great railroad bridge, 
of two miles in length, which spans the lagoon, and enters 
Venice on the Island of St. Lucia. This bridge is fourteen 
feet wide, and upheld by two huhdred and twenty-two arches, 
and its foundation is, of course, built upon piles driven into 
tlie muddy bed of the lagoon. 

We halt in a great railway station, a conductor pokes his 
Lead into the railway carnage, and ejaculates, ^V€iv4ieai- 
sear^^ and we are at Venice. 

Following the advice of an old tourist, we had telegraphed 
to the Hotel Danieli that we were coming, and to have a con- 
veyance ready at the station. We wert, therefore, prepared, 
by our former experience in Vienna, for the gentlemanly per- 
sonage who addressed us in English, on alighting, to the 
effect that he had a gondola in waiting to convey us to the 
hotel. Our luggage was soon obtained, and safely stowed in 
the bottom of the long, black craft, with its two oarsmen, 
one at each end ; and in another moment, propelled by their 
measured and powerful strokes, we were gliding over the 
gi-eat canals of Venice, and having our first ride in a gondola. 

The novel sight of tall marble buildings, rising directly 
from out the water; the numerous gondolas gliding hither 
and thither ; the great reaches of canals, or alleys of water, 
stretching up between marble buildings ; tlie light iron lattice- 
work bridges ; painted gondola posts ; the slowly crumbling 
and time-defaced fronts of many an ancient palace ; the stal- 
wart gondoliers, and their warning shouts at the canal comers, 
— were all novelties on this our firat gondola ride, till we ar- 
rived at the hotel, once the palace of the Danieli family, and 
which we found fronted on the grand canal, and but a short 
distance from the Square and Church of St. Mark, Doge's 
Palace, &c. 

Every traveller and letter-writer tells about the gondolas 
and the gondoliers, and some sentimental scribblers do draw 
the long-bow teiribly about them. The long, low water eraft, 
with their easy, comfortable, morfoco cushions, upon which 
you might sit or recline at Ml length, and be either hidden 

O0KD0LA3 AND G0KD0.LIEB8. 481> 

or exposed to view, as suits the taste, with their gentle, almost 
imperceptible motion, I found to be the most luxurious and 
lazy mode of travel I ever experienced. But let not the 
reader understand that the canals, th^se water alleys that 
slash the city in every direction, are its only highways ; one 
may walk all over Venice on foot, although, of course, in pass- 
ing from ceitain points to othcre, he ma}** have to go a more 
roundabout way in order to cross the bridges than he would 
have to. take in the gondola. 

The tall, graceful gondoliers are quite a study, and the 
mai-vellous skill with which they manage their long crafls a 
wonder. The scientific whii'l of an oar-blade, a mere twist of 
the hand, or a sort of geometric figure cut in the water, will 
wind their naiTow cr«ifl in and out a crowd of othera, or avoid 
collisions that seem inevitable. The shout of warning of the 
gondolier as he approaches a comer, or to others approach- 
ing, is musically Italian, and much of the charm undoubtedly 
comes from the athletic forms, the dark Italian faces, deep 
black eyes, and graceful movements of the rowel's, and the 
Bwilt passage of their mysterious craft past tall palaces, flights 
of marble steps sloping down to the shining waters, and 
graceful bridges. Yet one wants to be on the 'larger or 
broadest canals to get up anything like poetic fervor in 
Venice, and then in sunlight, or, as was my good fortune, 
beneath the gorgeous gilding of the full moon. 

When your gondola takes you on a business trip, and you 
turn off from any of the great canals upon a naiTow one for 
a short cut, in fact, leave the main street for a back or side 
one, you become aware that there is something besides poetry 
in the canals of Venice. The water,* which was bright and 
shining in the sunlight, becomes, when shut up between tall 
buildings, lllcc a gi'eat puddle in a cellar, or the dark pool in 
an abandoned mine; foul greenness and slime stick to the 
walls of old buildings and decaying palaces, fragments of sea- 
weed and other debris float here and there, the perfume is 
not of " Araby the Blest," and the general watery flavor of 
everj'thing causes one to appreciate the Western Ameiican'f 


criticism as to what sort of a place he found Venice, Tvho 
pliecl, "Damp, sir; very damp." 

Dreamily floating upon the Grand Canal, however, beneath 
the full moon of autumn, with the ducal palace and its point- 
ed arches and columns, making a beautiful picture of light 
and shade; the tall pillars, bearing St. Theodore and the 
Winged Lion, shooting up to the deep-blue sky, their sum- 
mits tipped with silver in the beam ; the tall obelisk of the 
Campanile rising in the background like a sentinel ; the canal 
between the palace and the prison, like a stream of light> 
revealing tlie well-known Bridge of Sighs, spanning the gap ; 
and withal the canal itself, a sheet of molten silver, which, 
disturbed by the gondolier's oar-blade, flashes like a shattered 
mirror, — and you realize something of what the poet has sung 
and the novelist written. Then comes the tinkle of a guitar 
faintly across the water; long, dark gondolas glide silently 
past your own like magical monsters, guided by dark genii, 
whose scarcely perceptible motion of a dark wand in the 
silver sea sends them on with hardly a ripple ; the very shout 
of these fellows heard coming across the water at night has 
a melody in it, and the tremulous light from tall marble 
palaces reflected upon the water, with the flitting hither and 
thither of gondolier lanterns seen upon some of the narrower 
ebon cun'ents, scarce reached by the moon between the lofty 
buildings, make the. whole scene seem like a fairy panorama, 
that will vanish entirely before the light of day. 

The Grand Canal, the main artery of the city, which varies 
from one hundred to about two hundred feet wide, seems to 
wind round through the city, past all the most noted churches 
and palaces. Over one hundred and fifty other aqueous high- 
ways lead out and in to it, and more than three hundi*cd 
bridges cross them, linking the seventy-two islands of Venice 
together like the octagon braces of a spider's web. 

The flood of memories of what one has read of tho ancient 
glories of Venice, Queen of the Adriatic, its great conunercial 
power, its government and doges, its magnificent palaces, its 
proud nobles, its wealth, luxury, and ait, and, above all, the 


investBient of every monument and palace with historic inter- 
est and poetic charm, is apt to cause the tourist to expend his 
epistolary labor in recalling and rehearaing historic facts and 
figures relating to the wonderful City of the Sea ; for, in these 
modem days, one can hardly realize, looking at her now, that, 
in the early part of the fifteenth century, her merchants had 
ten millions of golden ducats in circulation ; that three thou- 
sand war ships and forty-five galleys, besides over three thou- 
sand merchant ships, flew her proud flag; that fiity-two 
thousand sailors, over a hundred great naval captains, a 
thousand nobles, besides judges, lawyers, merchants, and 
artisans were hers. 

*' Once she did hold the gorgeous East in fee, 
And was the safeguard of the West," 

but now is but an exhibition of the traces of ancient grandeur, 
power, and magnificence combined with the too evident indi- 
cations of modem poverty and decay. 

The Doge's Palace, Pi^zetta, Ducal Palace, and the two 
tall pillars bearing the Winged Lion and the statue of St. 
Theodore, seen from the water, are such familiar objects from 
the numerous paintings, — no art collection is complete with- 
out one or two, -7 engravings, and scenic representations, that 
they seem to be old acquaintances, and at first to lack the 
charm of novelty. Aroimd the base of the two pillars, when 
the shade of the buildings falls that way, lay lazzaroni at full 
length on the flat pavement, while at the edge of the broad 
platform of stone, that ran out to the water of the canal, were 
moored groups of gondolas, the gondoliers on the alert for 
strangers who might wish to visit the Lido, Dogana del Mare, 
or Rialto. 

Kialto ! Yes ; that is the first place we will visit. 

*' Many a time and oft upon the Kialto/' 

"Hey, there, gondolier 1 Ponte di RialtoP 
The gondolier certainly understood English, fot he said 
something about ^eee^ signore," and prepared the cushions oi 


his gondola for us, upon which we straightway reclined, and 
in a few moments' time were corkscrewing our way through 
a crowd of market-boats, gondolas, and 'long-shore-men's craft, 
near the landing at one end of the celebrated Merchants' 
Exchange of Shylock's time. 

Afler various i-emarkable curves, twists, and wonderful 
windings among the water craft, enlivened with shouts, ex- 
clamations, a sparkling of black eyes, and play of swarthy- 
features on the part of the gondoliers, we were brpught to 
the diily landing, and ascended from it, and stood upon the 
bridge — the Rialto. Much of the poetry of the Sialto 
bridge is destroyed by some of the guide-books, which state 
that the land on the left of the canal passing up was called 
the Rialto, and was considered the city, and distinguished as 
such &om the 9tate of Venice ; and upon this Rialto, riot the 
bridge, were the custom-house, various wai'chouses, and other 
establishments connected with trade and commerce ; that the 
real " on 'change," where Antonio and Shylock met, was in 
the square opposite the Church of San Jacope, which, in 
olden time, was crowded with merchants, who there trans- 
acted their business of weight and consequence. 

However, when I was a boy, I always, in my mind, made 
the rendezvous of the merchant and the Jew on the bridge ; 
but it must have been sadly changed since the time Shake- 
speare wrote of, unless Shylock came to buy some old clothes, 
and Antonio to obtain grapes, figs, or onions for dinner. This 
we thought while standing on the bridge. The view of it 
from the water, where its single arch of ninety-one feet span, 
twenty-five feet from the cuiTent, lifts up the six aix-lies on 
each side, rising to the open or central arcade at the top, with 
the rail and swelled balustei*s at their base, is so familiar, that, 
as we looked at it from the gondola, it seemed as if some old 
scene at the theatre had just been slid together at the sound 
of the prompter's whistle, or that we were looking at an old 
engraving through a magnifying-glass. 

The romantic ima^nation of him who fancies that he shall 
pace over this old structure, and muse on Shylock, Antonio, 


and Othdlo undisturbed upon its broad platfonn, is dispelled 
when he finds that its seventy-two feet of breadth is divided 
into three or four passages or streets, and two rows of shops, 
de troted to the sale of every conceivable thing in the way of 
pr(»visions, fruit, vegetables, macaroni, clothing, cheap orna- 
ments, beads, dry goods, and china, absolutely crowded with 
hucksters of every description, giving an amusing panorama 
of the Venetian retail business in its various departments. 

Hard by oiu: hotel was the Doge's Palace, another familiar 
edifice ; and, as we stood within its great court-yard, we could 
realize something of the luxury and art of Venice in former 

The marble front of the palace, looking into this enclosure, 
was a wilderness of elegant carving, armoriAl bearings, statues, 
wreaths, elaborate cornices, elegant columns, wrought balus- 
trades, graceful » arches, and beautiful bass-relie&. Here, in 
the centre of the marble pavement, are the great bronze open- 
ings of cisterns, nearly breast high, richly wrought, and live 
or six feet in diameter. Standing upon this pavement, we 
look up at the celebrated Giant's Stiircase — a superb ascent, 
and architecturally simple an^ grand. At its top stand two 
colossal statues of Mars and Neptune on either side ; and it 
was here, upon this upper step between the two colossi, that 
the doges were crowned; and here Byron locates the last 
scene of Marino Faliero, where, when the citizens rush in, 

« The gory head rolls down the Giant's Stairs. 


The panelling of this grand staircase is of the most ele- 
gantly wrought and polished marble, of various hues, artisti- 
cally arranged. Everywhere the prodigality of rich and costly 
marbles in panellings, pillars, arcades, arches, colonnades, and 
luxurious decoration is lavished with an unsparing hand. 
Opposite the Giant's Stairs are elegant statues of Adam 
and Eve, while others of great Venetians, or allegorical sub- 
jects, appear in various niches. We stood in the Hall of th# 
Great Council, a splendid apartment of over one hundred and 
seventy-five feet long and eighty-five in widths the walls cov- 


ered with magnificent paintings — Tintoretto's huge picture 
of Paradise, eighty-four feet wide and thirty-four high ; the 
Discovery of Pope Alexander, painted by the sons of Paul 
Veronese ; a splendid battle-piece, representing a contest be- 
tween the Tui"ks and Venetians and Crusaders ; the Return 
of a Doge after a Victory over the Genoese ; Paul Veronese's 
allegorical picture of Venice, and many pictures illustrating 
the history of Venice, among them one of a great naval bat- 
tle, full of figures, and quite a spirited composition ; others 
portrayed various scenes illustrating the doges' reception of 
the pope, and the performance of various acts acknowledging 
his power. 

AH around the upper part of the walls ran the noted series 
of portraits, seventy-two in number, of the Doges of Venice, 
and, of course, our eyes first sought that of Maiino Faliero, 
or, rather, the place where it should have been. Directly op- 
posite the throne — probably that other doges might take 
warning — hung the frame, like the others, but in place of the 
aged face and whitening hairs, crowned with the doge's cap, 
was the black curtain, on which was painted, — 

"7/tc est locus Marini Faletro decapiti pro criminxbus/* 

l^his inscription does more to perpetuate the doge's name 
to posterity than his portrait, or anything else, even had Byron 
never written his tragedy. Here, among these portraits, are 
those whose names are famed in Venetian history. Francisco 
Foscari, who reigned for over thirty-five years; "blind old 
Dandolo," who, when elected doge, in 1192, was eighty-five 
ycara of age, and led the attack on Constantinople in person 
at ninety-seven. Foscari's tragic story is told by Byron ; and 
there are others whose deeds, and almost very names, are for- 

History tells us that of the first fifty doges, five abdicated, 
five were banished with their eyes put out, five were mas- 
sacred, nine deposed, and two fell in battle long before the 
reiim of Marino Faliero, who was beheaded. Andrea Don- 
dole died of vexation. Foscari, after bis long and glorioua 

THB lion's MOTTTH. 495 

term of service to his country, was rewarded by that circle of 
demons, the Council of Ten, by fiendishly torturing his son, 
in the vain hope of extorting a confession, failing in which 
they deposed the father, who, when the great bell of St. Mark 
sounded, announcing the /election of his successor, fell dead 
from a rupture of a blood-vessel. 

An historical apartment is this Hall of the Great Council, 
with the painted battles of the once proud republic lining the 
walls, and the faces of its seventy-two doges looking silently 
down upon these mimic scenes of their glory and triumph. 
Here, upon the very platform where I stood, was once the 
doge's throne. Here he spoke to the council ; so would I. 

** Most potent, grave, and reverend seigniors ; " 

and Othello's address never had more quiet listeners than 
the seventy-two red-robed, bell-capped old nobles in the pic- 
ture frames as my voice echoed in this grand old hall, where 
theira had, nearly five centuries ago, been listened to upon 
affairs of state with rapt attention. A wealth of art in the 
collection of splendid creations of great artists pervades this 
ancient home of the doges, which greet the visitor at every 
turn as he goes from room to room; collections of bronzes, 
curious car\'ings, and rich ornamental work are profuse, and in 
one apartment is an exceedingly curious collection of ancient 
maps, made m the sixteenth century, and a rare and interest- 
ing collection of manuscnpts, autographic letters, &c. 

But, after having stood upon the doges' throne in the 
Council Hall, and stepped out on the balcony where the 
doges were wont to show themselves to the people below, 
we must see the " Lion's Mouth." 

Upon inquiiy, we found we had passed it ; and no wonder, 
for not far from the staircase was pointed out to us a narrow slit 
in the wall, very much like that at a country post-office for the 
reception of letters, through which the secret denunciations 
were slipped for the inspection of the terrible Council of Ten. 

** But where is the Lion's Mouth ? " 

^Here is where it icaV' said the guide: and he further told 

496 THB coimciL of xsir. 

US that goyemment was having a bronze head made to supply 
the phice of the old one, that was long since removed — for 
traveller would not be satisfied, unless they saw here the 
real bronze head of a lion, with a fierce mouth, emblematical 
of the cruel grip of the terrible inquisitorial council, that 
denunciations which sent a man to the tortures of the rack 
and the block itself could ever have been thrust through so 
contemptible a slit in the wall. 

Next we sat down in the Hall of the Council of Ten it- 
self — a room with its ceiling richly ornamented with paint- 
ings by Paul Veronese, and beautiful paintings by other arti- 
ists upon its walls. Then we visited the doges' audience 
chamber, rich in pictures by Paul Veronese ; but the best 
picture we saw here, from this artist's pencil, was the Rape 
of Europa, in which the soft beauty and rich coloring of the 
landscape contended with the loveliness of the female figure in 
exciting the spectator's admiration. This picture is in an 
ante-room, said to have once been a guard-room, upon the 
walls of which are also four of Tintoretto's best pictures — 
Venus crowning Ariadne, Mercury and the Graces, Vulcan 
at his Forge, and Pallas and Mars. 

But it is useless to enumerate paintings in these grand old 
palaces, as such enumeration becomes but little better than 
a catalogue. As we have said before, these glorious creations 
of the great artists waken enthusiasm in the dullest breast. 
We have nothing at home with which to compare them ; they 
are sights and wonders in foreign lands that are a large por- 
tion of the charm of foreign travel. To the lover o4 or 
enthusiast in art, they are a luxurious feast and a joy for- 
ever; and the ordinaiy sight-seer soon ceases, after travelling 
abroad, to regard what he has before deemed undue praise or . 
admiration of the old masters, as affectation on the part of 
many of those who utter it. We stand " in Venice, on the 
Bridge of Sighs," and wonder if any modem tourist ever does 
so without repeating Byron's couplet ; slowly we pass over it, 
glance out at the window at the water flashing beneath^ think 
how many sad hearts have crossed this little span, and fbDow 


our guide doiyn into the prison vaults below, down through 
intricate passages, terrible dungeons in the solid masonry, and 
dimly lighted from the loopholes of the passage. 

" But will signore go down and see the others ? ** 

^^ Others! Great heavens! can it be that there arc any 
worse than these?" 

The guide answers with a significant shrug, and we follow 
him to a still lower depth. 

Here, down below the level of the surface of the canal, are 
a tier of holes in the solid masonry — one can hardly call 
these relics of tyranny anything else. A narrow gallery 
leads past them, from one end of which the only light and air 
obtained by the inmates were received. These dungeons are 
about twelve feet long by six in width, and seven feet high, 
and were formerly lined with wood, with a little wooden 
platform raised a foot from the floor, upon which thd prisoner 
rested on his straw. We went into one of these hideous 
dungeons, where some of the wood-work still remained, upon 
which, by the aid of a candle, we saw some halfobliterated 
cuttings and inscriptions in Italian, said to be the mementos 
of unhappy prisoners who had pined in these terrible places. 
It makes one almost shudder to stand, even now, in one of 
these fearful prisons, although their grated doors were long 
since wrenched from their hinges by the French; but the 
light of day cannot even now reach them, respiration is diffi- 
cult, and the visitor feels, while standing in them, a nameless 
horror, or a sensation akin to dread, lest some forgotten door 
should clap to and fasten him down forever: so we hurry 
forth, glad to see once more the bhie sky above, and chase 
dull fancies from the brain by an invigorating draught of 
heaven's pure au\ 

Across the broad pave, in front of the Doge's Palace, and 
we come to the two granite pillars, each hewn fit)m a single 
block, one bearing St. Theodore, and the other the Winged 
Lion, which, upon their pedestals, must be over sixty feet in 
height ; they form a sort of state entrance, or indicators, as it 
were, to the grand Square of St. Mark. The end colonnade 



of the Ducal Palace, towards these towers, at the landing; or 
mole, ranged along the edge of the canal, forms part of the 
piazetta, continuation, or grand state opening of the squaie 
out to the water side. 

"We pass between these columns and over the place that 
has been so often reddened by blood at public execntionB, 
and glance up before entering the square, at the elegant archi- 
tecture of the palace on our left. Fir^t, a row of Corinthian 
pillars upholds a richly-ornamented fiieze, and within the piUaiB 
Gothic arches form the covered passage for pedestrians; 
above, the Gothic pillars are repeated, the bend of the inner 
arches having elegantly sculptured marble figures, in half- 
reclining positions, and carved heads over the key-stones; 
above this second tier comes an elegant frieze, ornamented 
with Cupids holding beautifully-sculptured hanging garlands, 
and sheltered by an elaborate projecting cornice ; above this, 
the marble carved rail and balusters, with each post snr 
mounted with a full-length marble statue. 

This elegant and elaborate workmanship, these two grand 
columns, and the series of arches of the Doge's Palace, the 
canal between the palace and the prison, and the Bridge of 
Sighs, were the first objects that greeted my sight going out 
from the hotel in the morning ; like the gondolas and canals, 
they seemed of the Venice we read about, as they do even 
now, as we look at them in one of the photographic me- 
mentos of our visit. 

The great Square of St. Mark, or ^Pe-at-zir San Marko^ 
as tourists learn to call it, after they have been there, is five 
hundred and eighty feet long by about two hundred and 
seventy wide. It is an elegant enclosure, paved with broad, 
flat slabs, and surrounded by elegant buildings, the lower 
stories all around, except beneath one or two public build- 
ings, are arcades, in which are shops, restaurants, and money 
changers' offices. 

At one end of the square, right across the whole space of 
it, rises the Church of St. Mark, with its arched entrances, 
florid decorations, bronze horses, and mosqne-like cupolas; 

TBZCK9 OF TB^E. 489 

upon one side extends the Ducal Palaoe, the lower story on 
the square utUized into cafes and shops ; 4ipon the other side 
are the Mint and Library, and also the great clock tower, with 
a huge sun-dial, in blue and gold, upon its square side ; above 
it, in a sheltered niche, is the Virgin and Child; above this, a 
huge winged lion upon a cornice ; and standing high upon the 
top of the tower, in the open air, is a great bell, beside which 
stand two huge bronze Moors, armed with hanuners, with 
which they stiike the hours on the bell. 

Looking towards the Church of St. Mark, we see the lofty 
Campanile lifting its huge pyramidal top three hundred and 
twenty feet above the pavement. Here, in this great square, 
of a cool evening and moonlight night, played a fine band of 
music, while the public distributed itself about at tables, 
which were set far out upon the pave, and ordered refreshing 
ice-creams, delicate cakes, and light wines, from the cafS 
waiters, which they enjoyed while listening to the music. 
Ladies and gentlemen sauntered up and down; lazzaroni 
stretched themselves at full length in shadowy nooks ; pedlers 
of curiosities, selecting foreigners with unnerring instinct, 
sought to dispose of their wares at six times their value, re- 
minding one very forcibly of their image-selling brethren in 
Amerii a. A fellow, with a handful of tooth-picks caiTcd out 
of bone into the shape of a gondola, sauntered up. 

" Signore Inglese" (exhibiting his wares), "you buy him?" 

" No, no ^ (shaking my head) ; " don't want it.** 

Who ever heard of a man*s picking his teeth after eating 
ice-cream ? But the peripatetic dealer was not to be repulsed 
at the first charge. 

" Signore, buy ; varee sheep." 

« How much ? '* 

Unlucky words. He scented a trade at once. His black 
eyes sparkled, and his white teeth glittered in the moonlight. 
The rogue understood a little English, too. 

" One lira, one franc, sare ; magnifique." 

^ One franc! Quarter of a dollar for a contemptible little 
tooth-pick I Glet out." 


""Varee fine, sare; gondola, sare; tree for two lira" (hold- 
ing up his fingers, and laying the merchandise on the table 
before rae). 

"No, no; too dear.'' 

" Vat you give me for him ? " 

At this moment the cafS waiter brought me a few copper 
coins in change, and was profoundly gratefiil for two of 
them. I chinked the others in my hand absently. 

" Give you four sous." 

"Ah, no, signore" (with a deprecatory shrug); "take for 
half lira — ten sous." 

" No ; don't want it. Four sous." 

He gathered up his tooth-picks, replaced them in his little 
tray, walked away half a dozen steps — ^then returned. 

" Signore sail have him for four sous." 

He pocketed the coins and passed away, and I became 
possessed of a Venetian memento which I afterwards found 
could be bought in any of the shops for half what I paid 
for it. Nevertheless, it was a cheap lesson in the Italian 
retail trade, which I afterwards profited by. 

The reader will recollect that the promenading, and the 
lounge at the tables in the square, is undisturbed by horses 
and vehicles. There are no horses in Venice. If one by 
chance should be brought there, he would be exhibited as a 
show. The shops around the square are ft*equented by trav- 
ellers for the purchase of Venetian jewelry, glass beads, and 
glass ware. 

Little silver gondolas, scarf-pins, with the winged lion in 
gold, and mosaics, inlaid with figures of beetles,*are much 
bought by tourists. So are the little mother-of-pearl-looking 
shells, strung together in necklaces and bracelets, and hawked 
round by the pedlers. But let no one who visits Venice 
leave without buying some of Carlo Ponti's photographs, the 
best and cheapest in the world, unless he has changed since 
we were in his shop, 52 St. Mark's Square. These photo- 
graphic views were of rare beauty, and of all the interesting 
views in Venice, public buildings, exteriors and interiors 


also all the great paintings, besides views of buildings and 
paintings in the great galleries of other cities. These beauti- 
ful largeHsized views, which bring back what they so faith- 
fully represent vividly to mind, we purchased at from thirty 
to seventy-five cents each. In New York and Boston the 
price was from three to five dollars each. 

We have sauntered all around the great Square of St. 
Mark, have waited till the hour of two was struck, and seen 
the cloud of pigeons that come, with their rush of wings like 
a shower, down to the pavement at one end of the square, to 
be fed with their daily ration of com by the government, 
punctually at the stroke; we have stood before the three 
huge pedestals of bronze, which are a dozen or twenty feet 
hi^h, and look like elegantly-wrought gigantic candlesticks, 
the candles being the tall masts that rise therefrom, from the 
peaks of which, in. the days of Venetian glory, floated the 
silken gonfalons emblematical of the three dominions under 
the republic — Venice, . Cyprus, and the Morea. These 
beautifuUy-wrought pedestals exhibit in bass-relief figures of 
Tritons, ships, and sea-nymphs at their base, with a circle of 
the everlasting winged lions further up towards the centre, 
and above them ornamental leaves and flowers enclosing the 
medallion portrait of one of the doges. 

We entered the Campanile, or bell- tower, after admiring' 
the statues about the base, with some doubts about under- 
taking its ascent, fearing such a getting up stairs as its lofty 
altitude would call for. To our surprise, however, we found 
that there were no stairs whatever, the ascent being made by 
a brick-paved walk, laid in a series of zigzags, each a gradual 
ascent from the other. So up we went, the whole three hun- 
dred and twenty feet, — a long walk, — to the great pyramid 
above, and enjoyed a superb view of Venice, and the Gulf 
of Venice, fi'om the top. 

But the lion of Venice (not the winged one) is the grand 
old Church of St. Mark, with its five gi-eat arched doorways, 
surrounded by magnificent frescoes, its elegant columns, and 
bronze horses, of historic fame, looking out into the square^ 


This church is said to be a mixture of Orecian and Roman 
architecture', but its domes give it a suggestion of Saracenio 

The three huge masts, with their bronze pedestals, stand 
directly in front of it, and the pavement of the square before 
the church is fancifully laid out. One great beauty about the 
entrances is the double row of numerous little columns of 
various kinds of marble, beautifully wrought. I counted of 
these fifty-two in the lower tier. They are supported by the 
same number above, and in the arches of the five doorways 
are great mosaics, in bright colors, representing the Last 
Judgment, the Entombment of St. Mark, Ac. Above these, 
over the huge arches of the doors, except the central one, 
are other rich mosaics, representing the Descent fi'om the 
Cross, the Ascension, Ac. A marble gallery and railing ran 
above the great arches of the doorways ; and over the ceo- 
tral one, in front of a huge arched window of many-hued 
glass, stand the four bronze horses of which so much has 
been written. They are said to have been brought to Rome 
by Augustus after his victory over Antony, to have adorned 
a triumphal arch there, and been successively removed by 
Nero the fiddler, Domitian the fly-catcher, and Trajan, fonun 
and wall-builder, to arches of their own. The Emperor 
Constantino then carried them to his new capital, Constanti- 
nople, which, hundreds of years after, fell into the hands of 
the Turks, but which, in turn, was taken by the crusaders in 
the fourth crusade, in 1206, whence they were wrenched 
from where they stood by knightly plunderers, and brought 
to Venice, to be again pulled down by the great modem cru- 
sader, Napoleon. France, after having them trotting forth 
from the top of the Arc du Carrousel for eighteen years, had 
to trot them back to Venice. So that these horses in their 
day, which is a space of fifteen hundred years, have travelled 
about the world to some extent. These bronze steeds weigh 
nearly two thousand pounds each. 

Above the upper mosaics, the horses, and upper arches, the 
fiinge or decoration of the arches is crammed and crowded 


with fret-work, statuary, and ornament. Six open-work, 
ornamental steeples enclose colossal statues of saints; a 
fringe and fret-work of angels, palm-branches, saints, and 
scroll-work run all along the top of the arches ; upon the 
points of four stand four other saintly statues ; on the point 
over the great arch is the statue of St. Mark ; under him is 
his winged lion, with his paw upon the Book, and in eveiy 
conceivable nook and comer a statue, mosaic, or carving, 
making this great temple one of floi-id display, while it is 
rich with the plundered spoils of the crusaders, wrenched 
from mosques of the Moslem, and from Constantine's capital, 
when it fell into their hands. Everywhere in this church the 
visitor sees evidence of this plunder of the East, or, as the 
old crusadei*s might have said, " reclamation from the Mos- 
lems." One of the great bronze doors leading into the spa- 
cious vestibule is said to have been one brought from the 
Mosque of St. Sophia in 1203 ; and the vaulted roof of this 
vestibule is filled with beautiful mosaic representations of 
Scripture subjects, while around its walls are elegant columns 
of rai*e marbles, brought from the East. The huge poitals 
of entrance are of bronze, and besides the one mentioned 
above is the elegant central one, of a sort of Moorish work- 
manship, w^th its panels inlaid with figures and carvings in 

Amid these artistical and historical curiosities, we . are 
pointed to an inlaid red and white place in the pavement, at 
the principal entrance, marking the spot where Pope Alexan- 
der III. and Frederick Barbarossa, the bold, red-bearded em- 
peror of Gei-many, who did so much to raise the secular 
power of his kingdom in opposition to arrogated papal 
supremacy, met and were reconciled. In other words, here 
is where, in 1177, Frederick rather "knocked under" to the 

Passing in at the portal, the spectator is amazed at the 
vast mass of elegant columns of marble, poi-phyry, verd 
antique, ngate, and .other elegant stone, superb mosaics, gild- 
ing and ornament in profusion that meet his view on every 



side. This church was, in fact, a sort of treasure-house to 
the Venetians. Every ship that went out from the republic 
when it was building was enjoined to bring back material for 
it ; the doges lavished their wealth upon it, and great artists 
left their work upon its walls, while the wealth which lich 
sinners paid in, in offerings, in the hope of purchasing with 
money immunity from divine wrath for their cruelties and 
crime, was expended on it with unsparing hand. 

It is like many other old cathedrals in other countries — a 
monument of the nation of the past, and not of the present. 
So St. Mark's is a symbol of old Venice as it was, and of 
which we read in history and romance ; and as we stand upon 
its pavement, uneven in marble billows, we look for solemn, 
long-bearded doges, priests in their vestments, with swing- 
ing censers, moving amid the pillars ; or a group of crusaders 
around the octagon pulpit, with a Maltese cross in its panel, 
instead of a few modem dressed tourists in the midst of its 
dim-lighted splendor. 

The church is built in the form of a Greek cross, with a 
great dome over the centre, and also one over each arm of 
the cross. The walls and columns of the interior are of mar- 
bles of the richest and most elegant description ; there are 
said to be five hundred of the columns, and the various por- 
tions of the interior, with its different style of architecture, 
Grecian, Gothic, and Saracenic, would take a volume to de- 
scribe. In fact the visitor hardly knows where to begin first 
to examine this incongruous mass of architectural defects, 
historic interests, splendor, and collection of rare works of art 
badly displayed. The interior of this wonderful old church 
can no more be described in a tourist's sketch, 'than it can be 
seen in a single visit. 

There is the very porphyry basin which holds the hoiy 
water set on a pedestal that was once a Greek altar^ upon 
which the Achaians sacrificed to then- gods. There is the 
superb marble colonnade separating the nave from the choir, 
supported by columns of black and white porphyry, and up* 
holding fourteen elegant marble statues, seven on each side, 


with a huge cross bearing the figure of the Saviour, in solid 
silver, in the centre. There is a magnificent high altir, with its 
tour richly-wrought columns, elegant bronze statues, its costly 
mosaics, its pictures in gems and enamel of scenes in the life 
of St. Mark, its rich bass-relief and gorgeous canopy. The 
canopy of another altar is supported by four fluted spiral pil- 
lara brought from the Temple of Jerusalem, two of them of 
translucent alabaster. The sacristy, with its roof covered 
with rich mosaics ; the curious tessellated floor, and the won- 
dcrfiilly decorated roof above; the different chapels and 
altars, each one of which is a specimen of the ait of a dif 
lerent time, are seen here. 

There were the splendid tomb of Cardinal Zeno, built in 
1515 ; bronze doors made in Venice in the year 1100 ; the 
marble columns taken from Constantinople in 1205; the 
"bronze statue of St. John, by Segala in 1565 ; the altar table 
made from a slab of stone brought from Tyre in 1126; mon- 
ument of the last doge buried in St. Mai'k in 1354 ; the figure 
of Christ, in silver, 1594 ; Greek, Byzantine, and Gothic speci- 
mens of art. The church is a study of marbles, pillara, and 
colonnades ; every part of it seems to have a histor}', and the 
eye becomes wearied with an endless succession of different 
objects, and the mind confused in endeavoring to grasp and 
retain distinct impressions of various portions, which it only 
preserves, at last, as one general picture. 

In Venice the tourist cannot but be struck, as elsewhere 
in Italy, with the splendor of the churches, the wealth of 
gold, silver, and bullion locked up idle, dormant, and useless, 
contrasted with the abundance of the beggars that in grisly 
crowds beset the very doors of these splendid temples. 
Cathedrals, whose wealth would build a hundred such re- 
ligious edii'lces as we erect in America, and which contribute 
nothing to the expense of the state, maintain little more than 
a corporal's guard of bedizened priests, while hundreds of 
gaunt, famine-stricken wretches are perishing at their very 
threshold for the necessaries of life. It seemed wicked to look 
upon great solid silver busts of forgotten archbishojts, gem- 


crusted crosiers and mitres that make their public appe&iauce 
but once in a year in a church ceremonial ; altai*s with bor- 
ders of solid gold and flashing jewels, hidden from pnblio 
view, and unveiled ohly on the occasion of church festivals^ 
or for the tourist's shilling, while the poor, ignorant followers 
of the church vainly plead in miseiy at its portals. 

The wealth that has been lavished here on the churches 
seems to have been poured out with as free a hand as if the 
coffers of the church were exhaustless. In the Chiesa de 
Gesuiti, or Chm*ch of the Jesuits, the luxmious magnificence 
of the interior is almost indescribable. The walls of this 
edifice are completely sheathed in cai-ved marble, polished to 
the highest degree, and inlaid with other colored marbles in 
flowers and running vines. Up, around, and near the pulpit 
are heavy, massive, and rich hangings, apparently of white 
and blue brocatelle, graceful, rich, and luxurious ; but you find 
it to be solid inlaid marble, fashioned by the cunning of the 
artificer into the semblance of drapery. There it is with 
fringe and fold, tassel and variegated pattern, wrought with 
costly and laborious toil from the solid stone. Great twisted 
columns of verd antique uphold the altar, and a costly 
mosiac pavement covers the space before it ; the altar itself 
is rich with many-colored marbles, agate, and jasper, and all 
around the church the sculptora have wrought out the marble 
into a pounteifeit resemblance of rich draperies — a wondrous 
work of art. In this magnificent temple, in front of the great 
altar, is a slab marking the last resting-place of the last doge 
of Venice, Manini — the Latin inscription telling that " the 
ashes of Manini are transmitted to eternity.'' 

The Church of Santa Maria de Fran, built nearly six hun- 
dred years ago, is another edifice rich in artistic works and 
monuments. Here is a mausoleum erected to the doge 
Pesaro, who died in 1659, and of which all tourists speak ; 
and well they may. It is a great marble temple, eighty feet 
\ high, its lower story of a sort of Moorish architecture, open ; 
and in the centre sits a statue of the departed doge upon a 
sarcophagus upheld by dragons, while two obliging bronze 


skeleUiid hold in their bony hands scrolls for the i)arpose of 
revealing the virtues of the great departed to posterity. But 
this is not all of this remarkable monument. At the four 
comers of the pillars, upholding the temple, stand four huge 
Nubians carved in marble ; their tunics are of white marble, 
their legs and faces black, and seen through rents in their 
white marble garments appears the black as of their skins — a 
novel effect of sculpture, most certainly. 

The beautiful monument to Titian, completed in 1853, is 
another of the artistic wondera of this church. Upon a mar- 
ble platform of three steps rises, -first, a great marble base or 
pedestal about thirty feet long, at each end of which are 
seated two allegorical figures of men, with tablets upon which 
they have written inscriptions. One of the figures is of a 
man in the full vigor of life, and the other of extreme old 
age ; between these two rises another huge pedestal or orna- 
mental marble cornice, ten feet high, bearing upon its face 
two angels in bass-relie&, supporting a wreath enclosing the 
names of Titian, and King Ferdinand, who completed the 
monument; upon this second pedestal four richly-decorated 
Corinthian columns support a lofty Coiinthian canopy, look- 
ing, in fact, like the grand arched entrance to a temple, the 
centre being the widest, highest, and composed of an arch. 
Seated in the centre is a grand statue of the great artist, with 
the figure of an angel at his side ; between, and at the sides 
of the tall columns supporting the canopy above, are colossal 
marble statues of four female allegorical figures, and on the 
background, behind these groups, upon the walls of this 
marble temple as it were, are sculptured elegant ba^s-reliefs 
of the painter's greatest works, the Assumption, Martyrdom 
of St. Lawrence, and Peter Martyr ; upon the wings of the 
great arch, above the column supports, are other beautiful 
bass-reliefs, and surmounting the whole, the winged lion, in 
sculptured marble. The whole structure is very beautiful in 
its workmanship and elaborate in detail, the eight colossal 
statues finely done, the marble drapery strikingly natural. 
Even a picture of this elegant monument is something to 

canova's monumbnt. 

idmire, and to be able to stand. l>eiVfc^^ ^x^ ^ . _^ 
•re than doubly gratif3ring. 

le may be remarked also of t^i^ .j,^^ ^ 

•ectly opposite the design of ^Hi^i^ iT^o'^^ 4ft 
at of Archduchess Christiana o.ti "V* ••'xxu.vj^v ^ax 

lid of white marble, and at tlx^ ^-i ^^^^'^^ ''^^ '^ ^ 
pen door, is a procession of Uro^siz «^ passing te- 
nting, I suppose. Art, Religion, O^ *»^S^i-es in mar- 
e completely shrouded in its xv^hi^ ^^ms, <fcc. Th^ 
I funeral urn ; next comes a y oi^tW-^^^^^^ iirapery, 
)8, bearing a torch; next to tlaisi figure ascenJ- 

king together in an attitude or *J^^^® ^ malo and 
wrers, and following them tw-o vT^^^^ bearing a fe^ 

b of the open door of the ixxo^T"^^ ^^^^^ ^^"^^J 

i in a crouching attitude, witlx -i-w ^^^^^ rests ^ 

[ below him a colossal figure ^^^^^ crossed ^P^ 

, flowing drapery thrown upox^. ^i ^^ angel, ^ ^^^^ 

?, with half-bowed head, upo:^^^? ^^^Yt^^^^ 

s last figure is most natui-^Xl €xtii»^^.el/ 

with one of its feet hanging ^; 

jtep over the pedestal, and tli 

has an exceedingly natural sxi^* 

id gi'aceful as one might supj^^ 


3 many other monuments ricl>^ ^ 

old church. There is that of* 

D has been rendered immortal i^ 

3 tomb of another doge — a col 

1 and twenty-seven feet wido 

f sculpture, including nineteen 










lent of Simeone Dandolo, WK^^ "^^no*i/^ 

jr the Pesaro altar, the prop^^ > ^ric{ ^ 
resenting the Virgin and Ch^H^ ^ ^1^ tK ^^^ "^^^.^ 
temple, with St. Peter, St. jj>*^ ^^^ited ^ ^-^^ ^/ 

Marino Faliero; the elegant 
Jacopo Pesaro, who died in j 

ling near, while numerous metuT^ ^^^is, a»^^^^A^^^ 




femily were kneeling at cLISg! 
elegant painting, said to l>^ 
little chapels opening ou'fc of 
pictures, monuments, and ^ 
pelpetuate the memory of la 
now extinct or almost iEoi*^ 
who have a desire to vie"«v- "t 
old doges will find maxiy 
Giovannio e Paolo, includxxikf 
dramin, who died in 1470- 

This great chorch is tlnr^« 
one hundred and forty-tw'o : 
hundred and twenty-tlir«3^ f 
left, we saw the space tlis*-* 
an's masterpiece, Petex* ^VT" 
Owing to some repairs tl»s»-* 
the church, this priceless I*^ 
side chapels for greateir ^5*-** 
was totally destroyed, -witii 
turea, the Titian amon^ -fcla* 
The Santa Maria dellO' ^ 
great dome supported i»^ si.< 
open seven chapels, is "b^sa-t^ 
Tintoretto's picture of tfa* 
scent of the Holy Spii^*-* 

We become weaiiecl "wa 
saints, martyrs, and ]VIaa.<3 
that one ought to tsa-lt^ 
churches and the Acsa-d^^n 
begin to enumerate tti o t*^ ^ 
tion of the Vii^n i» oi»« 
color and elegant in e:x;^<5«J 
another; the Fishermo-t*. 
vei-yfine; and the gr«ss>-*' 
Saviour in the Hoaso o^f" -■- 
one entire end of a ba^^l* 


610 7L0BENCB« 

long by twenty in height, — a very animated composition ; 
Titian's St. John in the Desert, and Tintoretto's Crucifixion, 
with the Three Marys, besides an indefinite number of saints, 
martyrs undergoing tortm^es, Madonnns, holy families, Virgins, 
Ac, in various styles of art are here. 

All the guide-books tell us that Florence is the direst city 
of the earth, that it is Florence the Beautiful ; so old Genoa 
is called Genoa Superba ; and, in fhct>, local pride gives many 
of these old cities grandiloquent or flattering titles, the pres- 
ent significance of which the tourist fails to see. Florence 
owes its i-eputation for beauty more to its beautifiil surround- 
ings and its charming environs than to any beauties of its own, 
being in the centre of a sort of pretty valley, as it were, with 
gentle elevations surrounding it, and the picturesque peaks of 
the Apennines rising in the distance. From the hill of Fie- 
sole the visitor gets a most charming view of hill, valley, 
mountain, and plain, and of the city beneath, with the Amo 
twisting its silver thread through it. The country all around 
is picturesque in the extreme, with exquisite bits of landscape 
taking in vineyards and country houses, villages and church 
spires, gently sloping hill-sides, and distant mountain peaks* 
assuming many strange hues in the sunlight. But the streets 
of the city itself are generally narrow, and with but little 
architectural display. The great palaces look like fortresses, 
and built, as perhaps they were, for the strongholds of royalty. 

Our first walk carried us to the Piazza del Gran' Duca, and 
here rose the huge square, massive-looking building, the 
Palazzo Vccchio, with great, projecting battlements, and the 
tall, mediflBval-looking watch-tower rising up at one comer, so 
familiar from the many pictures that have been drawn of it. 
Right about in this vicinity are many superb works of art in 
the open air — an equestrian statue of Cosmo I., the Fountain 
of Neptune, with the god in his car drawn by sea-horses, with 
nymphs, sea-gods, and tritons sporting about the margin of 
the basin; and on one side of the door of the palace stands a 
colossal group of Hercules slaying Cacus, while on the other 
is a statue of David by Michael Angelo. 


3 celebrated Venus de' Medici, ox^^ f ^j^ ^at oyg/^gN^ 

elegant statues in the world, -tli*=^ --^, i ^ l ^^4-^ '^^ 

I • ^ ^ 1 rri, «-«o i>vir-e, modest heanty ^^. 

Q IS wondenul. The easy gT*a,c*<=fc .^-f:- A. , ^t .^^^ 

ty of the face, and perfect ^yxxvrr^ «=^-tf -• , , » /.,,. ^^^ 

ui T* I • !.;« ^fi.jl 1^ ^^y o^ the whole £fffix^ 

iultless. Its height, five feet ti^«?---v z -, , ^i. ^ 

, .^ i;i v ^ ♦! u rj^o inches, was Jess tbaxM I 
osed it would be, and the haxx^s "W"H ' \. A 

ion, arc bad, as all writers -^ - ^^® ^ ™^ 

le Apollino, another beautiful fi c^*-. ^ 

o ;« ;f T,rk^^« ;f ^oa ;^;r.^/i "^^^^, shows the numerous 
s in it, where it was jomeo. 'fcoc»,*^^"i' . i_ 

3n by a large picture which fell 5^^*^^!"' ^^ ^^^''^ ^ 

the Dancing Fawn is one of t;lx«?^^ ^* ^ ^'^'^ ^^^"^ '"''^; 
ng and faultless pieces of ai^u^ I^^^ xndescribably natural- 
vender if we really do have ^ivt- sculpture that makes 
jrn days; for the position, ^nci ^^^^t sculptors in these 
le are so faithfully rendered ^^ ^ ^^^^ featur^ limb, and 
dowed with life that it wouia ^c-^ »xake the marble seem 
fit continued its agile motior^s^"^^^ astonish the specte- 
• attitudes upon the pedestal. * ^xid assumed a doien 

len comes the group of the ^ 
I, and technically and anatorrxioa.1^^^ ^^' admirably eie- 
[ delineation of straining sin^-^^ ^ oorrect in its sculp 
spectator is more than Q-stoni^j^ ^^*^^d swelling musdes. 
ayed in the well-known figure ^^^ ^^ the .wonderful art 
ipirators while sharpening a kixi:f^ "^-he Slave overhearing 
did ourselves, as the best s^t^ootT ^^ °^ay strike many, 
chisel — this listening figure l>^^^-^^ssible for the sculp- 
stricken into stone, his attentioi^ ^^S" at his work as if 
3 occupation, the intent, eager, li^t^o ^-'^^'^^^^""^s^^^^'^Me 
ide of the figure, the earnestt^^^^ ^^'^g look, the natural 
d lips — all make you think th5:it; tH**^ ^^^ ^^^ and the 

the artist could have done wi^j^ JK ^^^ ^ ^^^y one thing 
hat was, to have imparted to tl^^ ^ ^® ^^ar^-ellous toucL 

seems as near a living thing as ^^^ j^TUre life and speech, 
e linger long in the Tribune, loatli ^^ <5aii be. 
ions, that reveal new beauties t^^ J^ Jeave these superb 
. On the walls of this room hatj -^ ^'^^ex* ^-^ craze 
)f Titian, Michael Angelo, Andrea <j*^^^^^ from th ^^^^ 








^'''■e'^V''^ttl ^-.-Oe; /*! « '*e whole VL ooUoS 
r/'"'' i* f"**^ °''«e2^'»«t'°«=» »<i Chad,. g»^ 

"oC,'^"". «fV»'i.> C'."''^ ^?''« ^<*^ e *. 


sarcophagi, with curious sculptured bass-reliefs, representing 
their chariot races, gods, and sea-nymphs. 

There is a room full of pictures of the French school of 
art, two of the German and Dutch schools, another of the 
Dutch and Flemish schools, with pictures of Van Ostade and 
Gerard Dow, and two rooms with magnificent pictures of 
the Venetian school, such as Paul Veronese's picture of 
Esther before Ahasuerus, — only think what a grand picture 
^ this makes, with its crowd of figures, full of life and spirit, — 
GJorgione's Judgment of Solomon, and Tintoretto's Chiist 
entering Jerusalem. Then come two other intensely inter- 
esting rooms — autograph portraits of painters, many of 
them painted by themselves. There are Goido and Vandyke, 
Rembrandt, Titian, Tintoretto, Da Vinci, and Michael An- 
gelo, and the portrait of Raphael, which has been so fre- 
quently copied and engraved in pictures, that we recognize it 
instantly, as the eye wanders over the crowded walls. 

There is so much in this Uffizi gallery to satisfy every vari- 
ety of artistic taste ! Just think, for instance, of the pleasure 
of looking through a whole room full of the original drawings 
of the old masters, with their autographs attached ! Here 
were parts of Michael Angelo's architectural plans, his rough 
sketches in red chalk or charcoal; Titian's drawings — rude 
outlines, from his portfolio, that on the canvas grew to 
voluptuous beauty ; also, those of Rubens, Albert Diirer, Tin- 
toretto, Del Sarto, and a host of others ; and these that we 
see hung upon the walls are only a mere selection of speci- 
mens from the wealth of this great collection of original 
sketches, which contains nearly twenty-eight thousand in alL 

But paintings and sculpture are not the only wonders of 
the Uffizi gallery. Coming out of the gallery of original 
drawings, we find a room of medals and coins, containing a 
set of nearly nine thousand imperial medals, a set of coins of 
the medisdval and modem Italian states, and a set of gold 
florins from as far back as the. year 1252. We could not but 
notice that more than one custodian or official regarded us 
with a curious eye as we wandered from room to room, aod 


one of the children upon her lap, while thirteen statues of 
other Bons and daughters are grouped about in various atti- 
tudes. It is useless to attempt to convey the impTes8i<Hi 
made by such masterly specimens of ancient art — fi^nres 
which may have been shaped by the chisel of Praxiteles, 
certainly by some sculptor who wrought as though he felt he 
was portraying a domestic tragedy he had been an eye- 
witness o^ and not a mythological legend. The deep, touch- 
ing grief of the mother, the admirably natural figure of one 
of the dying sons, that almost causes the spectator to rush to 
liis aid, — in fact, the whole story is told in marble, and with 
wonderfol effect, making a powerfiil impression upon the 

Turning from this great work of the andent sculptor's art, 
our eyes faU upon the original, of which we have often seen 
copies, Snyder's painting of the Boar Hunt; then the spirited 
picture of Henry IV. at the Battle of Ivry, — King Henry 
of Navarre, whom all' the school-boys will recollect, from the 
poem which is so popular with them for declamation: — 

** The king has come to marshal us, 
In all his armor dressed, 
And he has honnd a snow-white plame 
Upon his gallant crest." 

Another spirited and beautiful figure painting was the En^ 
trance of Henry lY. into Paris after the Battle of Ivry. 

Among other riches of this great collection is a cabinet of 
gems, where were a wonderfhl casket of rock crystal, with 
seventeen compartments, in which were elaborately wrought 
figures representing events of the Passion ; an elegant vase 
of sardonyx, on which Lorenzo de' Medici's name was en- 
graved; another cut out of a solid block of lapis lazuli, Ac 

Then came a great cabinet of ancient bronzes ; and it is 
curious to see how these specimens of antique Grecian art 
•—figures, vases, and bass-reliefs — form models for the most 
graceful, popular, and beautiful specimens'* of artistic work